Beneath His Empire

Chapter 5: Under His Protection

"It was under Miss Bennett's car."

The words hit me harder than the explosion itself.

For a moment, nobody moved.

Nobody spoke.

The entire newsroom seemed frozen in disbelief.

My car.

The bomb had been under my car.

A sick feeling twisted in my stomach.

If I had left work earlier...

If I had gone for lunch...

If I had walked into the parking garage...

I would be dead.

The realization made my knees weak.

Before I could stumble, Damien's hand settled against my lower back.

Steadying me.

Grounding me.

His touch was warm.

Firm.

Protective.

And right now, it was the only thing stopping me from completely falling apart.

"Aria."

His voice was unusually gentle.

I hated how much comfort I found in it.

"I'm okay," I lied.

His jaw tightened.

"No, you're not."

The scary thing was that he was right.

I wasn't okay.

Not even close.

Someone had just tried to kill me.

The room erupted into chaos.

Reporters rushed toward the windows.

Phones started ringing.

People shouted over one another.

Marcus grabbed his coat.

"We need to call the police."

"They're already on their way," the security guard said.

Damien remained perfectly calm.

Which somehow made everything more terrifying.

Most people panicked during a crisis.

Damien became colder.

Sharper.

More dangerous.

Like a predator preparing to hunt.

His eyes moved across the newsroom.

Calculating.

Assessing.

Planning.

Then he looked at me.

And suddenly I felt like I was the only thing he could see.

"You're coming with me."

I blinked.

"What?"

His expression didn't change.

"You're not staying here."

"I can decide that myself."

The second the words left my mouth, I regretted them.

Not because they weren't true.

Because Damien looked one step away from losing his patience.

"Aria."

The way he said my name sent a warning through me.

"You are being hunted."

The newsroom fell silent again.

Nobody missed the possessiveness in his tone.

Nobody missed the concern either.

Unfortunately, neither did I.

"I don't need a bodyguard."

"Good."

He grabbed my coat from the back of my chair.

"Because you're getting an army."

My mouth fell open.

Marcus actually laughed.

The sound was nervous.

Almost hysterical.

"Honestly, Aria, I think this might be the first smart thing he's said all day."

Traitor.

Complete traitor.

Damien handed me my coat.

I didn't take it.

"I'm not leaving with you."

His eyes narrowed.

"Why?"

Because I didn't trust him.

Because every instinct screamed that he was hiding something.

Because every second I spent around him made it harder to remember he was supposed to be the villain in this story.

Unfortunately, I couldn't say any of that.

So I settled on the truth.

"Because I don't know you."

For a brief moment, something flashed across his face.

Pain.

Gone so quickly I almost missed it.

Then his mask returned.

Cold.

Controlled.

Untouchable.

"Fair enough."

The answer surprised me.

Then he stepped closer.

Close enough that nobody else could hear him.

"But the people trying to kill you know exactly where you live."

My blood ran cold.

He wasn't wrong.

The anonymous photos.

The threats.

The surveillance.

The bomb.

They knew everything.

And suddenly my apartment didn't feel safe anymore.

Neither did my office.

Or the city.

Or anywhere.

As if sensing my fear, Damien lowered his voice.

"Come with me."

The words weren't an order this time.

They sounded almost like a plea.

And somehow that was worse.

Because Damien Blackwood wasn't a man who begged.

Ever.

---

An hour later, I found myself sitting inside the back of a black armored SUV.

Damien sat across from me.

The silence between us was almost unbearable.

Outside, rain continued to pound against the windows.

Inside, tension filled every inch of space.

I glanced at the heavily armed security team surrounding us.

"This is insane."

"No."

Damien looked out the window.

"The bomb was insane."

I couldn't argue with that.

The city blurred past.

Eventually, curiosity got the better of me.

"Where are we going?"

"My house."

I nearly choked.

"Absolutely not."

One dark eyebrow lifted.

"You'd rather return to the apartment where someone has been stalking you?"

I opened my mouth.

Then closed it.

Damien smirked.

The arrogant jerk knew he'd won.

I hated that.

Almost as much as I hated how attractive he looked when he smiled.

The drive continued in silence.

Twenty minutes later, the gates appeared.

Massive black iron gates.

Beyond them stood a mansion that looked more like a private kingdom.

Security cameras covered every corner.

Guards patrolled the grounds.

The place looked capable of surviving a small war.

"Do you always live like this?"

Damien glanced at me.

"No."

That single word told me everything.

The security wasn't normal.

It was recent.

Something had changed.

Something serious.

Interesting.

Very interesting.

The journalist in me immediately noticed.

The woman in me noticed something else.

Fear.

Not mine.

His.

Damien Blackwood was scared.

Not for himself.

For me.

And I couldn't understand why.

---

Later that evening, I stood inside one of the guest rooms overlooking the estate.

My suitcase sat untouched beside the bed.

Everything felt unreal.

The threats.

The explosion.

The way Damien had practically dragged me into protective custody.

A knock sounded at the door.

I opened it.

Damien stood there.

Without his suit jacket.

Without his usual mask.

For the first time, he looked tired.

Human.

Dangerously handsome.

My heart immediately betrayed me.

"What do you want?"

His gaze swept over me.

Checking.

Making sure I was okay.

The realization sent warmth through my chest.

"I increased security."

I folded my arms.

"Congratulations."

One corner of his mouth twitched.

Then his expression became serious again.

"Stay in the house tomorrow."

"No."

His eyes narrowed.

"No?"

"I'm a journalist."

I stepped closer.

"I'm not hiding."

The look he gave me was equal parts frustration and admiration.

"You never quit, do you?"

"No."

A long silence followed.

Then something unexpected happened.

Damien laughed.

Actually laughed.

The sound was low.

Rich.

Dangerously attractive.

And for a moment, the darkness surrounding us disappeared.

Then his phone rang.

The smile vanished instantly.

He answered.

"Report."

The person on the other end spoke rapidly.

I watched Damien's face turn cold.

Then colder.

Then deadly.

Every instinct screamed that something was wrong.

Very wrong.

The call ended.

"What happened?"

For several seconds, he simply stared at me.

Then he delivered the words that made my blood freeze.

"The bomb wasn't meant to kill you."

I frowned.

"What?"

Damien's jaw tightened.

"It was meant to send a message."

Fear crawled down my spine.

"What message?"

His eyes locked onto mine.

"They've taken someone."

The room suddenly felt colder.

"Who?"

Silence.

Then—

"My younger sister."