Moonlit Vengeance

A Glimpse of the Beast

In the darkness of my safehouse, I feel unseen eyes, each one a predator’s gaze, as if Damien’s demons are stalking me even here. My senses remain on edge, my skin prickling with that ever-present awareness of his reach. Even the comforting hum of the heater and the muffled city sounds outside can’t quell the sensation that I’m being watched. Or maybe it’s just my mind replaying every haunting memory I have of him.

-

A single lamp illuminates the chipped walls of my safehouse, casting long, shifting shadows across the small space. The flickering light feels inadequate against the looming presence I sense in my head. I sit at a wobbly table, laptop open, trying to force myself to focus on the lines of code and stolen files that bleed across the screen. But no matter how many times I blink, I can’t shut out the image of Damien, his sharp grey eyes, his powerful frame, the lethal aura that colors every breath he takes.

I promised myself I wouldn’t let my mind wander toward empathy, but I know him too intimately to dismiss what he must be feeling. Behind that terrifying mask of power, behind every brutal command and dangerous business deal, there’s a piece of Damien that once opened himself up to me in an unguarded moment. He might deny it, cloak it in cruelty, but somewhere beneath those layers is a man haunted by what he’s lost, though he’d never admit the sting of regret.

I remember how, even when he unleashed all his fury, his body pressed mine with a need so fierce it bordered on worship. My heart stutters recalling the heat of his touch, how it roiled with violence and raw desire in a single heartbeat. It was a paradox that enthralled me, made me blind to the mortal wound he would ultimately deal. I wonder if he’s replaying those same memories. A selfish corner of my heart hopes he is. A more rational part prays he’s drowning in guilt for every harsh word, for every time he turned me away in favor of his pride.

A lot has changed since that final night, but I can’t pretend the echoes of that savage intimacy don’t still live in my veins. They do. The proof is in the way my pulse picks up whenever I hear his name, the way my thoughts drift to the nights when we danced on the edge of pain and ecstasy, forging a bond so intense it almost felt holy. Now, that same bond festers like a wound, driving me forward on this path of revenge.

I shake my head, trying to bury the recollections. If I linger on them too long, I’ll slip back into that state of confusion and longing. I’ve sacrificed too much to let myself be swayed by ghosts.

Engaging Dialogue: The windowless stillness of my safehouse shatters when my laptop pings. It’s a secure line I hacked into days ago, a channel seldom used, linking two high-level members of Damien’s inner circle. My pulse quickens.

I press a key to activate the audio feed, half expecting the connection to be severed instantly, but the voices come through with eerie clarity. The first is Luca, that cunning right-hand man who might be loyal to Damien, or might just be loyal to the pay. The second voice… it’s unmistakable.

“Is it done?” Damien’s voice curls through the speakers, as smooth and menacing as velvet over steel.

There’s a pause. “Not yet,” Luca replies, tension lacing his tone. “The lead we had on the infiltration fell through. We’ve uncovered a pattern of intrusions, though. Different IP addresses, but the signature is the same. She’s covering her tracks, but not perfectly.”

Damien exhales, the sound just shy of a low growl. “I told you I want immediate updates on any lead. I don’t care how small. I’m not letting this spiral out of control. Our associates are skittish, and we can’t afford that kind of vulnerability, especially not now.”

“I understand, Steele.” Luca’s voice tightens. “But the trail is slippery. Whoever’s behind this… well, they know how to stay hidden. It’s personal, though. That much is clear. Nobody else would be messing with our finances and our… other dealings in such a precise way.”

Damien falls silent for a heartbeat. I can practically envision the tension in his jaw, the rigid set of his shoulders. “It might be her,” he finally says, his tone quieter, but more dangerous for it.

“You don’t know that,” Luca counters cautiously. “You said she was out of the picture.”

A bitter laugh escapes Damien, lacking any mirth. “I did. But I saw her at the gala, Luca. She hasn’t changed, not as much as she thinks. I recognized that look in her eyes. She wants vengeance.”

I swallow hard, my mouth suddenly dry. He knows me too well, a thought that both terrifies and enrages me.

“She has reasons,” Luca says in a careful voice. “From what I gather, you didn’t exactly part ways on good terms.”

There’s a low, savage rumble that might be Damien’s version of a scoff. “Keep your observations to yourself. I don’t pay you to analyze my personal affairs. I pay you to ensure no one can topple what I’ve built. If she’s truly behind this, I’ll handle it. She should know better than to wage war on me.”

“Understood,” Luca replies. “But if it is her, maybe we should consider a direct approach. Talking, maybe. She’s not some random gangster. She’s...”

Damien cuts him off with a curt hiss. “She’s a threat. And I’ll treat her as such. Keep me informed of everything, or you’ll be answering for it.”

The line abruptly goes dead, leaving me in the strained silence of my own breathing. My heart thunders in my chest. A swirl of conflicting emotions churns inside me. He sounds unyielding, ready to crush any obstacle, and yet beneath that, I can still sense the tremor of something else, something like regret, or an ache he won’t allow himself to feel.

-

With a shaky exhale, I snap the connection shut and stare at the dingy ceiling overhead. Damien is a man shaped by violence, caged by his pride and haunted by regrets he refuses to name out loud. Sometimes, I wonder if he’s more beast than man now, especially after how he treated me. But I recall glimpses of a tenderness I never thought him capable of, moments when the walls came down long enough for him to wrap his arms around me as though I was his salvation.

It didn’t matter. He cast me aside, the savage alpha and mafia king unwilling to show weakness in front of a woman he once claimed to love. Yet here I am, torn between wanting to see him broken at my feet and the lingering memory of how it felt to be wrapped in his power.

I’ve never lied to myself: part of me craves him even now. In the quiet hours, I can’t stop remembering how we consumed each other, how our passion felt like stepping into a raging fire. But I also remember how quickly he turned, how his rage overshadowed our bond, leaving me broken in the aftermath. That pain shaped me into who I am: a woman forging her own path, a mother protecting her child, and a wolf unafraid to bare her teeth.

My eyes drift to the laptop again, to the files I’ve compiled. Schedules, routes, passcodes to lesser-known facilities, financial documents that map out the skeleton of Damien’s empire. Each piece is a step closer to dismantling everything he’s built. I have alliances of my own, people who want to see him fall for reasons as personal and bitter as mine. But it all hinges on secrecy, on striking from the shadows before he can lock me in his sights.

And yet, he’s already looking my way. I can feel it.

Dramatic Cliffhanger: I click through the logs, tracing the digital footprints I left when I hacked into Damien’s network. I was careful, but he’s no fool. The security enhancements, the changed encryption keys, the updated firewall scripts, they all scream that he’s onto me. My infiltration was successful, but it won’t be long before the trap I’ve set begins to close on me, too.

A new pop-up message blinks at the edge of my screen. My gut knots. It’s an alert from the software I installed to monitor Damien’s private server. With mounting dread, I watch as lines of text scroll by. They detail an unknown user, my user, gaining access to restricted files in the last twenty-four hours. The system has flagged the intrusion as a priority threat.

On the final line, a single note: “Suspected identity… AB.”

My chest tightens. AB. Aria Blackwell. I can almost hear Damien’s voice, deep and furious, reading off that abbreviation with grim satisfaction. The evidence is there, plain as day, connecting me to the break-in. I might have used dozens of false IP addresses and shell decoys, but something gave me away. Now he knows I’ve reached into the darkest recesses of his empire.

My throat feels impossibly dry. I glance around the safehouse’s cramped interior as though expecting Damien to burst in at any moment. The tension is suffocating. He’s playing the game as well as I am, maybe even better.

Yet this is exactly what I wanted, to rattle him, to force him into a corner. If he’s all but confirmed my involvement, then the final confrontation is closer than I dared to hope. Fear coils in my stomach, but alongside it, a pulse of heated adrenaline. I realize I’ve been waiting for this showdown ever since the night he cast me aside.

He knows I’m alive. He knows I’m coming for him.

And as much as I hate it, a reckless part of me wants to see him again, if only to show him the monster he helped create. The memory of his body crushing mine, of the scorching kisses that left bruises in their wake, those images seethe through my veins like a drug. I grit my teeth, forcing the sensation down. Focus on the plan. Focus on the child who needs me to survive this.

I rise from my chair, shutting off the laptop, heart pounding. Tomorrow, I make my next move. Damien has had the upper hand for far too long. We both might be beasts forged by violence, but this time, I won’t be the one left bleeding.