Chapter 19: Lines Redrawn
885 Words
Damien stands near the unlit fireplace, arms crossed, eyes locked onto the woman who refuses to let him in.
Elara is stubborn.
She doesn’t want his help.
Doesn’t want his protection.
And yet, people are after her.
Dangerous people.
Damien’s patience is wearing thin.
He exhales. “You can’t stay here forever.”
Elara meets his gaze. “I’ve been here for years, and nobody has found me.” Her voice is calm but firm. “That’s not changing now.”
Damien shakes his head. “You’re being reckless.”
“No, I’m being smart.” She folds her arms. “You, on the other hand, have only two weeks left here, and then you go back to your billionaire life. Stick to the plan, Damien. You don’t need to get involved in my mess.”
Damien’s jaw tightens.
So that’s it?
She just expects him to turn his back on all of this?
On her?
He exhales sharply. “You really think they won’t find you?”
Elara lifts her chin. “They won’t.”
Damien studies her.
She’s lying to herself.
But arguing with her now won’t get him anywhere.
Theo shifts uncomfortably. “Elara—”
“Shut up.”
Elara’s voice cuts through the air like a blade.
Theo freezes.
Her eyes are dark, dangerous, completely unforgiving.
“You’re leaving,” she says. “And you’re not coming back.”
Theo opens his mouth, then closes it. He looks torn between guilt and frustration.
“Elara, I didn’t mean to—”
“I don’t care what you meant to do,” she interrupts, stepping closer. “If you ever set foot here again, it won’t just be a rumor that I’m a murderer.”
Silence.
Theo swallows hard.
“I’ll kill you myself.”
Damien’s eyebrows raise slightly.
Theo blanches. “You don’t mean that.”
Elara just stares at him.
No emotion.
No hesitation.
Just cold, deadly certainty.
Theo finally nods stiffly and walks out the door.
Elara doesn’t watch him go. She just turns and locks the door behind him.
For a long moment, she stands there.
Then—
She exhales, tension slipping from her shoulders.
Damien watches her carefully.
She looks relieved.
Like a weight has been lifted.
***
Later that night, Damien is in his room, trying to push aside the nagging frustration in his chest.
Two more weeks.
Then he’s gone.
Back to his life.
Back to who he was before this.
That should feel like a relief.
But it doesn’t.
Then—his phone buzzes.
Correction. Not his phone.
The old landline in his room.
He frowns, picks it up. “Yeah?”
Elara’s voice comes through the receiver.
“I need your help.”
Damien sits up. “With what?”
A pause.
Then—
“…My room is flooding.”
“Yeah, so is my mind, the thought of you floods it- he teases her.
“Geez Damien, for heaven sakes. I’m serious!”
In a swift move, Damien throws on his V-line shirt and sweatpants, stepping into Elara’s room like a knight in shining armor. He immediately sees the problem and signs.
Water is dripping from a busted pipe near the ceiling.
“ You know, I’m starting to get the idea that you intentionally break things to watch me fix it. Is it like a kink thing or—“
“Oh shut up Damien” Elara rolls her eyes and groans. “Would you fix it or not?”
Damien rolls up his sleeves. “I got it.”
He grabs a wrench and climbs onto her dresser, tightening the pipe.
Elara stands below, arms crossed, watching him.
“You know, for a billionaire, you’re surprisingly handy.”
Damien smirks. “And for a fugitive, you’re surprisingly bad at fixing things.”
Elara rolls her eyes again. “I’m not a fugitive.”
“You’re accused of murder.”
“I was framed.”
Damien pauses, glancing down at her.
She meets his gaze.
He studies her face—the way her lips part slightly, the way her throat moves when she swallows.
His grip on the wrench tightens.
When he looks at her like this, it’s dangerous.
For both of them.
He finally fixes the pipe and steps down.
Elara hands him a towel. “Thanks.”
He takes it, but doesn’t move away.
Neither does she.
The tension shifts.
Something heavy lingers in the air.
Elara’s eyes flicker to his lips.
Damien notices.
He steps closer.
Then—
She grabs his shirt and pulls him down.
Their lips crash together.
The moment their lips touch, Damien’s shock is visible. Although his body is too slow to react, his hungry lips wastes no time to claim Elara’s.
Elara melts into him as he sucks her lower lip aggressively, her hands gripping his shirt.
Damien’s tongue moves like a sea wave in her mouth, grabbing her waist and pressing her back against the wall.
Elara moans slightly into his mouth, her fingers tangling in his hair. The softness of his lips, sending shivers to her being.
She tastes like coffee and defiance.
And Damien?
Damien is already drowning.
He should stop.
He should walk away.
But he doesn’t.
Because for the first time in years—
He doesn’t want to.
- Writer
