CHAPTER 13: FIRE.AND FLIGHT
1612 Words
The moment the screen went black, the penthouse lights flickered.
Arielle’s heart pounded. “Damon—”
“Move!” he shouted, grabbing her wrist and pulling her away from the desk.
He didn’t explain. He didn’t need to. Instinct screamed that danger was seconds away.
The next thing they heard was the faint, unmistakable click of a timer.
Then — BOOM!
The blast ripped through the lower floor.
The shockwave hit them like a train — glass shattered, alarms wailed, smoke filled the air. Damon threw himself over Arielle, shielding her as the windows blew inward, shards slicing through the air like blades.
The world spun. Smoke, heat, chaos.
“Stay down!” he ordered, his voice hoarse but commanding. His body pressed protectively against hers as debris rained around them.
Arielle coughed, eyes stinging. “Damon, what—what was that?!”
He grabbed her shoulders, eyes wild but focused. “Daniel. He wired the building.”
She looked around, panic rising. “The whole building—?”
“Go!” He yanked her toward the back elevator, half dragging her through the haze. The fire alarm screamed overhead, and the sprinklers burst to life, showering them both in cold water.
When they reached the service corridor, Damon slammed a code into the emergency panel. The elevator opened, and he shoved her inside.
Arielle’s hands trembled. “What if he’s waiting downstairs?”
Damon’s jaw clenched. “Then I’ll deal with him.”
She grabbed his wrist before he could turn away. “No. You’re not leaving me again.”
He looked at her — really looked — and for a moment, the mask of control slipped. His chest rose and fell, the muscles in his jaw twitching. “Arielle, please. I can’t lose you.”
“Then don’t,” she said softly. “We survive together or not at all.”
He exhaled — rough, defeated. Then nodded.
They rode down in silence, the elevator trembling as smoke filled the shaft. Damon’s hand never left hers, their fingers locked tight. When the doors opened to the underground parking lot, it was chaos — people running, alarms echoing, red emergency lights flashing.
Damon’s black Aston Martin waited near the exit, guarded by two of his men.
“Sir!” one shouted. “We have reports of a second device—”
“Inside the lobby?” Damon demanded.
“North wing, sir. But it’s unstable. We need to clear out now.”
Damon pushed Arielle toward the car. “Get in.”
They barely had the doors closed before another explosion rocked the ground above them. The ceiling cracked, dust and debris raining down. Damon floored the accelerator, tires screeching as they sped out into the night.
---
They didn’t stop until they were halfway down the coastal highway, miles from the city lights. The car finally slowed near an abandoned gas station by the cliffs.
Arielle sat in silence, heart still racing, adrenaline pumping through her veins.
Her voice came out shaky. “He tried to kill us.”
Damon’s hands were tight on the steering wheel. “No. He tried to send a message.”
“By blowing up your home?! Damon, he could’ve—”
“I know!” His voice cracked, rough and angry. “I know.”
The sound of his frustration hung heavy in the air. For the first time since she’d met him, Damon looked… human. Exhausted. Desperate.
He rubbed a hand over his face. “He’s always one step ahead. Every time I think I’ve got control, he reminds me who I’m really fighting.”
Arielle turned toward him. “Then stop fighting alone.”
He didn’t answer.
She leaned closer. “You said he’s your brother. Then maybe the only way to stop him is to stop pretending you’re invincible.”
He looked up at her, eyes dark and conflicted. “You think I don’t want to let you in? Every time I do, someone gets hurt. My mother. My team. And now you.”
“Then let me choose to stay,” she said, voice steady now. “Because I’d rather fight beside you than run away scared.”
Their eyes locked.
For a moment, there was nothing — no explosions, no threats — just them.
Her trembling hand found his cheek. “You don’t always have to be the billionaire with all the answers, Damon. Sometimes you just have to be… human.”
Something inside him broke. He reached out, cupping her face, and pulled her in — not out of lust, but out of pure, unguarded relief. Their lips met, soft but desperate, the taste of smoke and fear still lingering between them.
It wasn’t perfect. It wasn’t gentle. But it was real — a raw confession of everything they hadn’t said.
When they finally pulled apart, Arielle whispered, “What now?”
Damon rested his forehead against hers. “Now… we stop running.”
---
A few hours later, the faint pink of dawn bled across the horizon. Damon’s security team had regrouped at a safehouse by the cliffs — a discreet property owned under a shell company, known only to his most trusted people.
Inside, screens lined the walls, showing camera feeds and satellite images. One feed caught Damon’s attention — a black SUV parked outside a warehouse near the docks.
“Clara,” he muttered.
Arielle stood beside him, arms crossed. “You think Daniel’s with her?”
Damon’s jaw tightened. “If he’s not, she’ll lead me straight to him.”
He turned to his men. “I’m going alone.”
Arielle’s eyes widened. “No, you’re not.”
He gave her a small, almost sad smile. “You’ve done enough. I can’t risk you again.”
“Risk me?” she snapped. “Damon, I’m already in this. I’ve been shot at, threatened, blown up — you think sitting in a safehouse is going to help me now?”
His lips twitched, despite everything. “You’re stubborn.”
“Only because you’re impossible.”
He hesitated — then nodded once. “Fine. But you stay in the car. No arguments.”
She smirked faintly. “We’ll see about that.”
---
They reached the docks an hour later. The air was thick with salt and diesel, fog rolling over the dark water. Damon parked behind a stack of containers and killed the engine.
“Stay here,” he said again, checking the gun at his side. “If anything happens—”
“I call the police?” she teased.
“No.” He gave her a dangerous smile. “You run.”
But the moment he disappeared into the shadows, Arielle’s nerves got the best of her. She hated waiting — hated not knowing. So, against her better judgment, she slipped out of the car and followed at a distance.
Through the fog, she saw him — Damon, crouched behind a container, watching Clara through the warehouse window. The woman was pacing, talking to someone on a laptop.
Arielle crept closer, hiding behind a crate.
Then she heard it — that same voice from the video.
> “Good morning, little brother.”
Daniel.
His face appeared on the screen, older but hauntingly similar to Damon’s — same sharp jawline, same cold blue eyes, but twisted by hatred.
> “You run fast, but not fast enough. Did you like my fireworks?”
Damon’s fists clenched. “What do you want, Daniel?”
> “What I’ve always wanted — justice. You took her from me.”
“I didn’t kill Mom!” Damon shouted. “You set that fire—”
> “Liar!” Daniel roared, slamming his hand on the table. “You let her die! And now… you’ll know what that feels like.”
Before Damon could react, Clara turned toward the window — her gaze locking on Arielle’s reflection in the glass.
“Damon!” Arielle screamed. “She sees me!”
Gunfire erupted. Damon dove for cover, shouting her name. Arielle ran, bullets sparking against the metal crates. Damon fired back, hitting one of the armed men inside.
“Get in the car!” he yelled.
Arielle sprinted, heart hammering, smoke and gunfire filling the air. She reached the car, but before Damon could follow — another explosion tore through the warehouse.
The force threw him to the ground. Arielle screamed, “Damon!”
The warehouse collapsed in flames.
---
She ran toward the fire, ignoring the heat, the shouts of security reinforcements arriving behind her. “Damon!” she cried again, voice breaking.
Through the smoke, a figure staggered out — coughing, limping, covered in soot.
“Damon!” She ran to him, wrapping her arms around his chest. He held her tightly, coughing hard but alive.
She looked up at him, tears streaming down her cheeks. “You i***t, you scared me!”
He gave a breathless laugh. “You should’ve stayed in the car.”
She smacked his shoulder. “You should’ve told me your brother was a maniac!”
He smiled faintly — that smile that always made her forget the chaos around them. “Guess we’re both terrible at following orders.”
Before she could answer, his earpiece crackled.
> “Sir, we have a problem. The signal we traced— it’s moving. Daniel wasn’t in the warehouse. He’s mobile.”
Arielle’s blood turned to ice. “You mean—”
> “He’s tracking your car, sir. He knows where you are.”
Damon’s expression hardened.
He pulled Arielle close. “Then we end this. No more running.”
- Writer
