Moonlit Vengeance

Echoes of Regret

I wake drenched in sweat, haunted by a nightmare of blood, betrayal, and explicit memories too raw to forget. My breath catches on a tremor, chest tight as though I’ve been running from a predator. Even the sheets beneath me feel damp, clinging to my body like a reminder that the past is never truly gone.

-

I lie there, staring up at the shadow-wreathed ceiling, the faint light of a passing car slicing across cracked plaster. My heart thuds with the ragged aftershocks of that dream, no, that memory. It’s the same one that’s plagued me for years, returning in fragments of carnality and violence whenever I foolishly think I’ve buried it for good.

Closing my eyes, I force myself to relive the moment that tore my life apart. The night that turned me from a wide-eyed lover into something harder, sharper, and far more dangerous.

It was late, or maybe early; I can’t remember anymore. Only the moon kept watch over us. We were in Damien’s private quarters, high above the hush of midnight streets. Outside, the city glimmered with false promises of safety, but in that room, everything was taut and electric, like a storm set to break.

He’d brought me there in a haze of mingled lust and fury, our mutual obsession sparking off every touch, every breath. I still feel the heat of his hand on my arm, how it clenched just a little too hard as he half-dragged me inside. The door slammed behind us with a reverberation that seemed to echo in my bones, rattling loose every secret hope and every silent fear I ever carried.

I remember the taste of his kiss, savage and demanding, a clash of lips and teeth that promised both pleasure and destruction. His fingers tangled in my hair, pulling just enough to sting. I gasped against his mouth, a shudder of anticipation rolling through me. It was always like that with us, raw, unfiltered desire that teetered on the brink of brutality, each of us daring the other to go one step too far.

The tension between us had been building for days, maybe longer. Every glance he threw my way brimmed with dark impatience, every brush of his hand a silent challenge. Yet beneath the aggression, we shared a craving so intense it stole the air from my lungs.

And that night, we unleashed it all. Clothes were peeled away, torn in our haste. Skin met skin with a crackle of static energy. We stumbled toward the bed, hearts pounding in a violent rhythm that matched the growl in Damien’s throat. My back hit the mattress, and for a moment, I saw the flicker of something in his eyes, something vulnerable, as though he was already mourning what he was about to do.

The next flash of memory is a whirlwind of limbs and moans, of hands roving across sweat-slick flesh. I remember how he pushed me to the brink of ecstasy, only to yank me back, the power he held over my body a narcotic that made me drunk on need. We found an exquisite kind of torment in each other’s mouths and thighs, a tempest of sensations that bordered on painful. I embraced every ounce of it, letting the sting of his teeth and the insistent press of his hips remind me how alive I was.

But even at our most entangled, I felt something else coiling beneath the lust, a jagged undercurrent of rage and suspicion. Damien had been distant for days, and though his caresses felt almost worshipful at times, there was a hardness in his stare. I saw the question forming behind his eyes. I could sense the betrayal he thought he had uncovered. I wanted to tell him he was wrong, that I was loyal, that I could never betray him. But the words wouldn’t come, buried under the roar of our combined desire.

A sudden shift in his hold signaled the change. One second he was pressing kisses down my throat, the next he was gripping my wrists and pinning them above my head, caging me in place with the sheer bulk of his body. My pulse kicked hard, a thrill colliding with fear. His mouth claimed mine again, bruising, demanding, and for an instant, I yielded with a moan that burned my lungs.

Then he tore his lips away, voice ragged as he spoke words that still sear my nightmares:

“You think I don’t know what you’ve done?”

Confusion slammed into me, followed by a wave of dread. I tried to ask what he meant, tried to deny any wrongdoing. But he silenced me with a snarl, forcing my wrists down harder into the sheets. His breath was hot against my ear, but the softness from earlier had vanished, replaced by an edge of accusation. My heart hammered so loudly that for a moment, I couldn’t hear anything else.

“You lied to me,” he snarled. “You think I can’t smell the deceit on your skin?”

I opened my mouth to protest, but my voice failed. The pleasure we’d shared moments before felt like a mockery, the final indulgence before the guillotine fell. He twisted away from me, eyes glittering with a betrayal I couldn’t comprehend, not fully. Standing there, stark naked and shaking, I reached for him.

He recoiled. The revulsion on his face struck me like a physical blow. In that instant, I realized whatever fragile trust had lingered between us was shattered beyond repair. It was as if a door slammed shut in his soul, leaving me outside in the cold.

“You’ve made your bed,” he hissed. “And now you can lie in it, alone.”

Something inside me cracked. Fury, desperation, heartbreak, they all tangled together in a knot that lodged itself in my throat. I scrambled upright, uncaring of my nakedness. “Damien, please,” I managed to whisper. “I don’t know what you think I did, but...”

He refused to let me finish. “Spare me your excuses. You’re no better than the snakes who slither through my empire, waiting for a moment of weakness.”

His words dripped with finality. Before I could argue or beg, he seized a robe from the floor, threw it at me, and pointed to the door. The once-intoxicating heat between us had mutated into a chill that crawled across my skin.

In a daze, I dressed, my cheeks burning with humiliation. The pain of his rejection scored itself into my soul, a brand I still carry. When I looked up, he was standing with his back to me, muscles taut, refusing to meet my eyes. The silence pressed in, suffocating, until I couldn’t bear it.

I left, tears burning down my cheeks, my heart hammered into pieces I wasn’t sure I could ever put back together. That night changed everything. It was the last time I saw him before everything fell apart. I discovered I was pregnant not long after, a twist of fate that made his betrayal even more unbearable. My illusions of safety, of belonging, of any future that might have bound us, collapsed.

Now, years later, I can still feel the echo of that final night in every nerve, every scar. The memory drags across my thoughts like claws on raw flesh, refusing to let me heal. My pulse thrums, sweat chilling on my skin. The nightmare recedes, but it leaves behind an ache that resonates in my bones.

-

My phone buzzes, the screen throwing ghostly light across the room. Selene’s name flashes at this ungodly hour. My throat tightens. I know she’s probably calling because something has happened, or is about to.

For a moment, I consider letting it ring. I feel too raw, too undone by the specters of my past. But Selene has been my anchor when everyone else either died or left me. She’s earned the right to break through my walls, even now.

I slide my finger across the screen. “Selene,” I manage.

Her voice crackles with subdued urgency. “Aria, I’m sorry to call so late. Were you sleeping?”

“Not really,” I murmur, forcing myself to sit up. My hair clings to the back of my neck. “What’s going on? You sound on edge.”

A shaky sigh bleeds through the line. “I overheard something tonight, something about Damien. Rumors that he’s pushing his people harder than ever. They say he’s after a new deal that will shift the balance of power, and you’re right in the center of it.”

My stomach clenches. “Damien never does anything halfway.”

She hesitates, and I hear the scrape of a chair. “That’s not all. Word is, Vittorio Giordano’s next big move involves you too. He’s sniffing around for weaknesses, and he thinks Damien’s vulnerability is tied up in you.”

A bitter laugh escapes my throat. “They’re both convinced I’m some kind of leverage. As if I don’t have my own agenda.”

“Aria,” she says, voice gentling. “Look, I know what he did to you. I know how he broke you. But you’re playing a dangerous game, and I’m worried you’re losing yourself in it. Is vengeance really worth this endless spiral?”

I close my eyes, recalling all the reasons I need to see Damien fall, the lies, the abuse of power, the heartbreak he inflicted not just on me but on countless others trapped under his rule. “It’s the only thing I have left,” I say, my voice trembling with the force of unspoken wounds. “After everything he took from me, I can’t just walk away.”

Selene is silent for a long moment. “I know,” she finally replies, tone heavy with resignation. “But I can still hate seeing you tear yourself apart, crossing line after line until there’s nothing left of who you used to be.”

A lump forms in my throat. I think of the woman I once was, hopeful, trusting, too naive for my own good. That naive girl died the night Damien turned on me, and in her place stands someone forged from pain and fury.

“We don’t get to choose our battlefields,” I say quietly. “Damien made this personal from the moment he decided I was expendable. He taught me that no one is safe in his world, not even the ones he pretends to love.”

Her next words hold a note of raw concern: “I just don’t want you to regret the person you become if you go too far. You’ve already endured so much….”

Regret. The word slices into me like a freshly honed blade. “Regret and I have been intimately acquainted for a long time,” I admit. “But I can’t turn back, Selene. Not when the future I’m fighting for depends on me being stronger than him.”

Her breath trembles over the line. “Do what you have to, Aria. But promise me you’ll keep your heart intact, if only for your child.”

My vision blurs at the mention of my son. Anguish mixes with a fierce protective surge. “He’s the only reason I’ve survived this long.”

-

When the call ends, I’m left alone with my thoughts, heart pounding as though it might c***k my ribs. Every brutal rejection, every blow to my soul, has shaped me into the warrior I’ve become. I’ve learned to wield violence with unflinching resolve, embracing the darkness of this world because it’s the only way to combat monsters like Damien. When tenderness fails, I turn to rage. When reason falters, I turn to cunning. And when love is shattered, I cling to raw lust and savage confrontation as armor against the emptiness.

I wasn’t always this way. There was a time I believed in gentler paths and quiet mercies. But that night with Damien changed me forever. He unleashed a beast inside me, one fueled by a lust for retribution as profound as the desire we once shared in tangled sheets.

So now I use every weapon at my disposal. My body, if need be, to trick and ensnare those who’d underestimate me. My fists and claws to protect what little remains of my humanity. My mind, sharpened by heartbreak, to navigate the labyrinth of deals and betrayals that define our underworld. And above all, I hold close the memory of what was done to me, wearing it like a scar that no one else can see.

Dramatic Cliffhanger: I force myself off the bed, rummaging for a glass of water to cool the fire raging under my skin. Just as I raise it to my lips, my phone pings again, a breaking news alert. I set the glass down, throat tightening at the ominous timing.

Flicking the screen, I scan the headline. At first, the words blur, my pulse roaring in my ears. But then they settle into razor clarity:

“Sources suggest Steele’s rumored child is the key to an upcoming power shift…”

My heart slams against my ribs, breath catching in a startled hiss. Damien’s rumored child. The shock blasts through me like an electrical current, short-circuiting every defense I’ve built. Everything I believed, that I was the only one carrying his secret, wavers with the force of an earthquake. Could it be that he had another child, another hidden piece of himself that he never told me about?

If that’s true, it could unravel every assumption I’ve made, every plan I’ve set in motion. My mind races with questions. Who is this child? When was this child conceived? Why has it remained a secret until now?

Desperation claws at my thoughts. If Damien has another heir in the shadows, everything changes. The precarious balance of power teeters at an even more dangerous angle, and my child’s safety may be at risk in ways I never anticipated. A storm of dread churns in my gut. I realize the path I’m on might be far more perilous than I ever guessed.

Shaking, I step back from the phone. In the mirror above the chipped sink, my reflection looks pale, eyes wide with more than just exhaustion. Is this some twisted ploy by Damien? A rumor planted to draw me out? Or is it a truth that will detonate the final vestiges of trust and hope I didn’t even know I was still holding?

Everything in me demands that I find answers. And in that moment, the fear recedes, replaced by a ferocious resolve. If Damien is playing a game with children, my child, or someone else’s, I will burn his empire to ash. No amount of heartbreak or regret can stop me now.