The Unmasking.
Damian's POV.
The night before, Damian couldn't go home.
It was the night Victor and his pack of wolves had chosen to strike, and Damian had stayed behind to command every move, every shadow, every bullet fired. What he hadn't expected was for the battle to drag into the ungodly hours of the morning.
By the time the smoke cleared, it was nearly 3 a.m. His suit was smeared with the dust of war, his body aching with exhaustion, but his mind, his mind was restless, burning like live coal.
He knew Eva would be worried sick. Their plans hadn't involved this. He hadn't told her anything, hadn't even hinted at what might unfold tonight. Instinctively, he reached for his phone, only to realize it was gone. Lost somewhere in the chaos of the firefight.
A hollow curse slipped past his lips. He couldn't reach Eva. He couldn't even reach Eric. He was cut off, surrounded by silence.
Instead of heading home, Damian turned his car back to the company, his chest heavy with unease. Maybe in the morning, he would see her and explain. Maybe.
But the unrest inside him only grew sharper. He tried to tell himself it was about Victor, that he feared what counterattack might come. But deep down, the unease felt heavier, darker, like something invisible tugged at his bones.
He made his choice. If Victor dared to claw back, then Damian would rip out the hand that fed him. No hesitation. No mercy. Which was why, instead of returning to his company, Damian steered his car south, toward Lugano, three hours away from Zurich.
The journey was long, the night air thick with silence, but Damian thrived in silence. It was in such stillness that men like him plotted their most ruthless moves.
At dawn's edge, he arrived at an abandoned mall, its facade crumbling, forgotten by time. Yet inside, behind broken shutters and hollow walls, another world awaited. A man in black awaited him at the entrance. Wordless, he led Damian through a narrow underground passage. The air shifted, damp and cold at first, then opening into something entirely different.
A vast underground hall unfolded before him, magnificent and glittering like a hidden palace. Extravagant chandeliers glowed above silk-covered walls, every detail decadent, deliberate, and dangerous. It was no ruin. It was a kingdom hidden beneath rubble.
Damian was led into a lavish lounge, the kind that reeked of secrets and power. "Wait here," the guard instructed.
Moments later, Rodriguez emerged.
A man in his mid-fifties, elegant yet sharp, the kind of man who could kill with a smile. He moved like a predator that had already won its hunt. For a heartbeat, Damian thought the man looked somewhat familiar, or maybe reminds him of someone he's seen before, but he dismissed the thought at once. This was no time for ghosts.
Rodriguez took his seat with unhurried grace, pouring wine first for Damian before serving himself. His calmness was the kind that unsettled lesser men, but Damian wasn't lesser.
"What brings you here at such an hour, Mr. Lopez?" Rodriguez asked, swirling the glass lazily. "Or did my men fail to please you tonight?"
"They fought well," Damian said coldly, his voice edged with steel. "But I am not at peace. Victor must be erased, completely. I will not allow anyone to think they can test me and live to boast about it. I want his end to echo as a warning across the entire Mafia world."
Rodriguez chuckled, the sound dark, smooth as poison. "Ah... so this is about making a statement."
Damian's jaw tightened. "He sent me a message, this is only the beginning. I do not accept threats. My mother is here. My wife is here. And I will not have them live in fear of a pathetic fool like Victor."
Rodriguez's expression sharpened. He leaned forward, eyes glinting. "You should know, Victor has already dragged Dexter into this. That bastard... However, that shouldn't in anyway be a problem, after all, Dexter is just a fool, someone I can easily crush with my bare hands if I choose. Did I not help you break his spine before?" A sly smile played on his lips. "Don't trouble yourself, Mr. Lopez. Leave Victor, and his vipers, to me. This time, perhaps I'll erase them from existence altogether."
Damian's stare was unwavering, the weight of a king's decree in his tone. "Do not fail me, Rodriguez. Not on this."
"You have my word," Rodriguez said, raising his glass in a quiet toast.
Damian rose, his coat falling around him like the mantle of a ruler. His footsteps struck the polished floor with power, with promise. At the doorway, he paused.
"Assign enough undercover men to my family. I want them watched. Protected. Invisible but untouchable."
Rodriguez inclined his head. "Consider it done."
With that, Damian turned and left, his presence still lingering in the gilded hall like the shadow of a storm about to break.
He drove back a long mile to Zurich.
By the time Damien's car rolled into the city, the clock had already slipped past nine in the morning. Exhaustion pressed against his temples, but it vanished the instant his gaze snagged on the sight in front of his company gates.
Eva.
She bolted out of the building like a hunted soul, her face pale, her eyes wide with dread. Panic carved across her delicate features, and something inside Damien clenched painfully, his chest tightening as if a fist had locked around his heart.
What happened to her?
He lowered the window, his voice sharp with concern as he called out her name. But Eva didn't hear him, her mind was so consumed by terror that it was as if his voice couldn't break through.
Damien's hand was already on the door handle, ready to leap out and stop her, when she flagged down a cab with frantic urgency. She slipped inside, the car peeling away so quickly it was as though she was fleeing from death itself.
That look on her face, it unsettled him in a way he couldn't explain. "Follow her," he ordered his driver, his tone edged with steel.
Moments later, the cab stopped in front of a modest guesthouse. Eva rushed out, not sparing a single glance around her, and darted inside. Damien's instincts screamed at him; he left his own car and trailed after her, his steps quick, silent, purposeful.
The corridor swallowed her slim figure. Even from a distance, Damien could sense her urgency, he could almost hear her ragged breaths, the staccato of her heartbeat against the walls. He was about to call out to her again when she turned sharply and slipped into a private booth.
And then...
A voice tore through the air.
"What do you want now, Ana?"
Damien froze.
Victor's voice?
His mind stuttered over the single word. Ana? The sound of it crashed through his skull like a thunderclap, shaking something deep inside him. He halted in his tracks, every nerve alive, his body rigid with shock.
Why did Victor call her that? Ana...
Damien remained just outside the booth, his pulse pounding.
And he was not in any way expecting what he uncovered on this day. A secret that jolted him to the core of his being.
Eva's POV
Eva hadn't slept a wink until morning.
Eric's accusations from the night before, his warning that she had endangered Damien's life, echoed in her head like a relentless curse. She had tossed, turned, gripped the sheets until her nails bit into fabric, but no rest came. Fear gnawed at her, hollowing her chest until her breaths came shallow and sharp.
His lines would not go through. She had called until her phone battery gasped its last breath and went dead in her hands.
Each time, the same cold, mechanical voice greeted her_
"He cannot pick your call at the moment. Please leave a message."
Over and over again.
That soulless voice had become a dagger in her chest. Damien had never left her hanging like this before. Never.
The more it repeated, the more the fear inside her multiplied, clawing at her sanity, whispering of disasters she couldn't bear to imagine
By dawn, she was a wreck. She slipped on jeans and a jacket with trembling hands, her body moving on autopilot, her heart drowning in dread. The office was her first stop, but the emptiness there only worsened the ache. His desk, untouched. His phone, silent. His files, all left abandoned.
Where are you, Damien?
She called his number again and again until her fingers ached. Nothing. No answer. It was like he had disappeared.
Desperation drove her to the one person she loathed turning to. Victor. She wanted to claw at him, to scream at him for tearing her life apart, but she needed answers. When the call connected.
"Where are you Victor?!"
He cut the call and sent her an address.
She didn't think. She didn't breathe. She ran.
By the time the cab screeched to a halt at the guesthouse, tears stung her eyes. She stumbled out, too frantic to notice the world around her, and dashed inside.
Her chest heaved as she raced down the corridor. When she reached the booth, she shoved the door open, her heart splitting.
And then she saw him.
Victor.
All the walls she had tried to hold up crumbled. Hot tears flooded her cheeks as she launched herself at him, pounding her fists weakly against his chest. Her sobs broke free, raw and unrestrained.
"You_" her voice cracked, trembling with rage and despair, "you keep ruining my life!"
"I... I don't understand," Victor muttered, his brows knitting in genuine confusion.
Eva's voice broke like glass. "Where is Damien, you devil? What have you done to him? What do you people want from me? Will you only rest when you've completely destroyed my life?" Her sobs tore through her chest as she beat her fists against him. "I did everything_everything_you and Dexter demanded! I stole the codes, I sold my soul, all for my freedom! For my life!"
Her cries grew ragged, laced with fury and despair. "Why do you still torment me like this? I don't love you! I want nothing to do with you! I don't even have that much freedom to say that?! Why won't you just leave my life alone! Why?" Why won't you let me breathe?"
Victor caught her wrists, stunned. "Get a grip on yourself, Ana!" He had seen her fierce, he had seen her untouchable, but this broken, trembling version of her left him shaken. So he was really surprised, because he has never seen her like this before, never.
"No! Don't you dare tell me what to do!" she screamed, pounding his chest, tears spilling down her face. "You don't own me! You never will!"
Her voice cracked into a howl of truth. "What right do you have to impose your twisted love on me? What right do you have to fight the one I chose? Yes! I love him. I love Damien! So go and die!" Her chest heaved as the words burst out of her, unstoppable. "I have loved Damian since my youth, since I was twelve! A-and, he's the only man I've ever given myself to! The only one! He's the only one I want for God's sake."
Her voice shook with rage and grief. "In Singapore, I swear I could have run away with him. I regret every second I didn't. If I had known you would keep haunting me, I would have told him everything and to hell with you all! But I silenced myself, I tore my heart apart, all because of you. But despite everything I did against my conscience to rid myself of you all, you had the guts to come back into my life to demand things I can never give!"
She jabbed his chest, her tears soaking through his shirt. "You turned me into a thief, a liar, a mere shadow of myself. I betrayed my everything, my love, my soul for you people! But listen to me, Victor_" her voice sharpened like a blade, "_I will never give you my love. Never!"
Her scream rose, raw and feral. "So go ahead! Kill me if you must! But give me back my husband! Give me back my Damien!"
For the first time, Victor's mouth fell open. He was struck dumb, her words slicing him deeper than any knife could.
"What do you mean... give you Damien?" he whispered hoarsely. "He's not with me."
"Liar!" she shrieked, wild-eyed, trembling with rage. "Do you think I don't know? Your filthy Mafia dogs attacked him last night!"
"Yes, we fought_" Victor's voice cracked as he tried to explain, "_but he killed most of my men! I didn't even see him! I swear I didn't touch him!"
"Then where is he?!" she bellowed, shaking with anguish.
"I don't know!" Victor roared back, just as broken.
And...
Just then, they both heard a noise right outside.
Both their heads snapped around at once.
There he was. Damien.
Standing in the shadows, pale as death. His face looked carved in stone, ashen, his every muscle twitched with disbelief. His eyes flickered with multiple expressions, shock, betrayal, devastation, rage, all colliding in one storm.