Beneath His Empire

Chapter 13: The Man Behind the Armor

"Your father sent me."

The gun remained pointed at my chest.

Every instinct screamed at me to run.

Unfortunately, there was nowhere to run.

The mysterious man stood directly in the doorway.

Blocking the only exit.

My heart pounded painfully.

"You're lying."

The words came out stronger than I felt.

The stranger smiled.

Not mockingly.

Almost sadly.

"I wish I was."

My grip tightened around the photograph.

Three months ago.

My father had been alive three months ago.

The thought alone felt impossible.

Unreal.

Dangerous.

"If my father is alive, where is he?"

The man's expression darkened.

"I don't know."

I laughed bitterly.

"You expect me to believe that?"

The gun lowered slightly.

"Believe whatever you want."

A strange silence settled between us.

Then footsteps echoed from the hallway.

The man's eyes widened.

"Damn it."

He turned sharply toward the sound.

For a split second, his attention left me.

Then the door burst open.

"Get away from her!"

Damien's voice thundered through the room.

Everything happened at once.

Security guards flooded inside.

The stranger cursed.

A gunshot exploded through the archive.

I screamed.

Damien lunged forward.

The stranger dove through a side exit hidden behind one of the shelves.

Within seconds he was gone.

Vanished.

The room erupted into chaos.

Security raced after him.

Damien ignored all of it.

His attention was entirely focused on me.

"Are you hurt?"

I blinked.

"What?"

His hands settled on my shoulders.

Checking.

Searching.

Making sure I was okay.

"Did he touch you?"

The intensity in his voice startled me.

"No."

"Did he hurt you?"

"No."

Only then did Damien seem to breathe.

The tension left his shoulders.

Slightly.

Not much.

But enough for me to notice.

And for some reason, that made my chest tighten.

Because he looked genuinely terrified.

Not for himself.

For me.

---

An hour later, we sat alone in the library.

The archive had been sealed.

Security teams searched the property.

Nobody had found the stranger.

I couldn't stop thinking about his words.

Your father sent me.

My father.

Alive.

The possibility haunted me.

A cup of tea sat untouched in front of me.

Across from me, Damien remained unusually quiet.

His gaze hadn't left me in almost ten minutes.

Finally, I sighed.

"What?"

His eyes narrowed.

"What what?"

"You're staring."

A faint smile appeared.

The first one I'd seen all day.

"You broke into a restricted room."

I rolled my eyes.

"There it is."

"There what is?"

"The billionaire attitude."

The smile widened.

Unexpectedly.

Dangerously.

And for a second, I forgot everything else.

The conspiracy.

The threats.

The gun.

Everything.

Because Damien looked different when he smiled.

Warmer.

Younger.

Human.

The realization caught me off guard.

Apparently, it caught him off guard too.

Because his smile slowly faded.

Leaving behind something else.

Something softer.

The air between us suddenly felt strange.

Heavy.

My pulse quickened.

Why was he looking at me like that?

Why was I noticing?

Neither question had a safe answer.

"So," I said quickly, looking away first, "am I under arrest?"

Damien laughed.

The sound was low and rich.

A surprisingly attractive laugh.

My traitorous heart immediately noticed.

"No."

"Good."

I picked up my tea.

"Because I'd win."

His eyebrow lifted.

"You'd win?"

"I'm very convincing."

"You're very stubborn."

I smirked.

"That too."

For a moment, neither of us spoke.

The silence wasn't awkward.

Which somehow felt more dangerous.

Because I was starting to enjoy these moments.

Starting to enjoy him.

And that was a problem.

A very big problem.

---

Later that evening, rain began falling heavily outside.

Thunder echoed across the estate.

The storm transformed the mansion into something almost peaceful.

Almost.

I stood on a balcony overlooking the gardens.

Trying to clear my head.

Trying not to think about fathers who might be alive.

Or billionaires who smiled too much.

The balcony door opened behind me.

I didn't need to turn around.

I already knew.

Damien.

Somehow, I was beginning to recognize his presence.

Which was alarming.

Very alarming.

He stepped beside me.

Neither of us spoke immediately.

The rain continued falling.

Soft.

Steady.

Beautiful.

"Do you miss him?"

The question surprised me.

I looked at Damien.

"My father?"

He nodded.

A lump formed in my throat.

"Every day."

His gaze remained on the gardens.

Not pushing.

Not demanding.

Just listening.

So I answered.

Honestly.

"I used to think he'd walk through the door."

The confession felt strangely vulnerable.

"I waited for years."

Damien didn't interrupt.

"I kept expecting him to come home."

My voice cracked slightly.

"I think part of me never stopped waiting."

The silence that followed wasn't uncomfortable.

It felt safe.

And that realization scared me more than anything.

Because safety wasn't something I associated with Damien Blackwood.

Yet somehow...

I was beginning to.

A warm hand suddenly covered mine.

My breath caught.

The touch was gentle.

Unexpected.

Comforting.

For several seconds, neither of us moved.

The world seemed to fade away.

The rain.

The storm.

The danger.

Everything.

There was only Damien.

And the warmth of his hand.

Slowly, I looked up.

His eyes met mine.

The intensity there stole my breath.

No one had ever looked at me like that.

As if I was the only thing that mattered.

My heart pounded.

Louder.

Faster.

The space between us felt smaller.

His gaze dropped briefly to my lips.

Then returned to my eyes.

The air shifted.

Neither of us looked away.

Neither of us spoke.

And for one impossible moment, I thought he was going to kiss me.

A loud ringtone shattered the silence.

We jumped apart instantly.

The moment disappeared.

Gone.

My phone vibrated.

The screen lit up.

Unknown Number.

Again.

My stomach dropped.

Slowly, I opened the message.

A photograph appeared.

This time it wasn't me.

It was Olivia.

Alive.

Terrified.

Holding today's newspaper.

Proof she was still alive.

Beneath the photo was a single sentence.

Bring Damien Blackwood to Pier 17 tomorrow night. Alone.

My pulse quickened.

Then I read the final line.

And everything inside me went cold.

Or he dies before she does.