HIS FAVORITE ENEMY

Chapter five

The sound of his footsteps cut through the quiet of the garden like a blade. Heavy. Unhurried. Certain.

Alessia’s heart lurched, and instinctively, her grip on the girl’s small hand tightened. The child’s dark eyes flicked toward the approaching shadow, unflinching, while Alessia felt every muscle in her body coil, ready to run if she had to.

Damian stepped into the spill of moonlight, his presence dominating the night as though the world itself bent to make space for him. His gaze swept over the scene the fugitive woman crouched protectively beside the girl and his lips curved, not into a smile, but into something sharper.

“I should’ve known,” he drawled, voice deep and edged with amusement. “The moment I turn my back, you’d try something reckless.”

Alessia rose to her feet, tugging the girl behind her like a shield. Her pulse thundered against her throat, but she refused to let him see fear. “What the hell is wrong with you? First, you chain me to your bed like some prisoner. Now this?” She gestured at the girl, fury sharpening her words. “You’re keeping children here too? What kind of monster are you?”

The question cut the air between them, sharp and accusing.

Damian’s expression didn’t change. Not immediately. But his eyes those storm blue eyes that never missed a detail hardened. The faint amusement drained away, leaving behind a quiet, chilling intensity.

“You think I kidnapped her,” he said, more observation than question.

“What else am I supposed to think?” Alessia snapped. Her hand brushed protectively over the child’s shoulder, her own body standing firm as a barrier. “You think I’m going to stand here and watch while you use her like leverage? Or worse?”

His eyes darkened, a storm brewing, but his voice stayed calm, each word deliberate. “You don’t know me, Alessia. Don’t pretend you do.”

“Don’t know you?” she snarled, her voice raw with fury. “I saw you shoot him. I saw his blood. And this girl out here, alone, scared. You think I’m blind? You’re a predator, and she’s your prey.”

Damian tilted his head, studying her, his gaze piercing through the shadows. The garden’s floodlights caught the scar on his jaw, a faint line that made him look both deadly and human. “You’re quick to judge,” he said, his accent curling around the words. “But you’re wrong about one thing.”

“Oh, enlighten me,” she mocked, “What part of ‘murderer’ did I get wrong?”

He stepped closer, so close she could smell the cedar and gunpowder on him, his presence a weight that crushed the air from her lungs. “The girl,” he said, his voice low, almost a whisper. “You think I took her. You think I’m keeping her locked away.”

Alessia’s stomach twisted “She’s terrified. Drawing pictures in the dark, like some prisoner. What did you do to her?”

For the first time since she’d met him, a flicker of something passed through Damian’s face, something almost human, almost pained. It was gone too fast, smothered beneath his cold veneer.

The girl’s small fingers tightened around Alessia’s. She didn’t speak, didn’t make a sound. Only stared up at him with those solemn, unblinking eyes.

Alessia bent slightly, whispering to the girl, though she knew the child might not understand. “Don’t worry. I won’t let him touch you. I promise.”

Her words were more for herself than for the girl, a vow spoken through clenched teeth.

Damian took a step closer. Just one. It was enough for Alessia to feel the weight of his presence, the command in every deliberate move.

“Let her go, Alessia,” he said quietly.

“No.” Alessia straightened her spine, fire sparking in her eyes. “If you want her, you’ll have to go through me.”

For a heartbeat, silence stretched. The tension was so thick it seemed to thrum in the air, wrapping around all three of them. The girl clung tighter, pressing against Alessia’s side.

Then Damian exhaled slowly, dragging a hand over his jaw as though reining in the sharp retort that threatened to escape. When he spoke again, his voice was softer, though no less commanding.

“You’ve got this all wrong.”

“Wrong?” Alessia let out a bitter laugh, the sound tight and cracking. “Don’t stand there acting like you’re some saint. You handcuffed me, for God’s sake. What makes you think I’ll believe anything you say about her?”

Damian’s eyes locked onto hers, unflinching. “Because this is different.”

He moved another step closer, slow, careful like a predator refusing to spook its prey. Alessia’s breath hitched, every instinct screaming to pull the girl and bolt into the night. But something about his face, about the raw steel in his tone pinned her to the spot.

He looked down at the child then, his expression shifting, softening in a way Alessia hadn’t thought possible for a man like him. The jagged edges smoothed. The predator became something else.

“Her name is Isla,” he said, voice quiet, reverent almost.

Alessia blinked. “What?”

“She isn’t my hostage. She isn’t some pawn. She......"His gaze flicked from Alessia to the little girl, lingering there with an almost unbearable weight of tenderness. “She’s my daughter.”

The words landed like thunder.

Alessia’s grip loosened before she realized it, her mind scrambling to process what she’d just heard. She glanced down at the girl, at Isla Damian’s daughter? Her chest tightened, confusion and disbelief colliding violently inside her.

“No…” she whispered, shaking her head as though denial could undo his words. “You.....you’re lying. Someone like you doesn’t have....."

But the rest died on her tongue as she caught the way Isla looked at him. Silent, yes. But the trust was there. The recognition. The quiet, unspoken bond between them.

Damian’s voice cut through her turmoil, low and steady. “Believe what you want about me, Alessia. Hate me, curse me, despise the air I breathe. But don’t ever mistake her for one of my games. She’s mine.”