The Reaper's Captive

5

THE REAPER’S CAPTIVE

Chapter Five: The Monster Who Kissed Her

The mansion was silent when Damon Vance stepped out of his office.

It was past midnight, and every sensible person in the house knew better than to disturb him at this hour.

Damon had spent the last three hours staring at the same photograph.

Faye.

He had taken it from the security footage showing her dancing barefoot in the music room. Her long, cream-blonde hair had fallen around her shoulders, and her eyes had been closed as she moved beneath the dim lights.

She had looked peaceful.

Beautiful.

Alive in a way he had forgotten people could be.

Damon crushed the photograph in his fist.

“Pathetic,” he muttered.

He was the Reaper. Men begged for their lives when they heard his name. He had watched grown men tremble without feeling a single thing.

Yet one frightened girl had somehow found a way beneath his skin.

And he despised her for it.

He despised the way he noticed when she didn't eat. The way her trembling voice followed him into his dreams. The way he had nearly broken Marco's hand for speaking harshly to her.

Most of all, he despised the unfamiliar feeling in his chest whenever he imagined her looking at another man.

He wanted it gone.

Tonight, he would make himself remember what he was.

A monster.

He walked toward Faye's bedroom.

---

Faye had just finished bathing when she heard the door open.

She stood beside the bed wearing a towel, her damp blonde hair falling down her back. The moment she saw Damon, all the color drained from her face.

“Mr. Vance?”

He shut the door behind him.

“Why are you still awake?”

“I was about to sleep.”

His eyes moved over her face, studying her as if she were a puzzle he intended to destroy.

“Are you afraid of me, Faye?”

She tightened her grip on the towel.

“Shouldn't I be?”

For one brief second, Damon smiled.

It wasn't a kind smile. It was the sort of smile that made her wish she had never spoken.

“At least you're learning.”

He approached her.

Faye stepped backward until her legs touched the edge of the bed.

“Please, what do you want?”

“Do I need a reason to visit a prisoner in my own house?”

“I'm not a prisoner.”

His expression went blank.

“Then open the front gate and leave.”

She fell silent.

They both knew she couldn't.

Damon tilted his head, examining her frightened face. He had frightened thousands of people, but none of them had ever made him feel as angry as he felt standing in front of her.

“Look at me.”

Faye slowly raised her eyes.

“Why do you keep doing that?” he demanded.

“Doing what?”

“Looking at me as if there's something good left inside me.”

Her lips parted, but no words came out.

“I don't know what you're talking about.”

“Liar.”

He moved closer. She tried to slip past him, but he caught her wrist.

“Let go of me,” she whispered.

He stared at her hand in his.

For a moment, something almost human flickered across his face.

Then it vanished.

“You make me feel things I don't want to feel,” he said quietly. “Do you understand how much I hate that?”

“I haven't done anything to you.”

“Exactly.”

His voice was so calm that it frightened her more than shouting would have.

“You walk around this house with those innocent eyes. You dance. You smile at my brother. You look at me as though I'm a man instead of what I am.”

“Please…”

“Stop saying that word.”

He released her wrist, but before she could move away, he seized her face and kissed her.

It was sudden, forceful, and entirely unwanted.

Faye froze in shock. Her hands pushed against his chest, trying to create distance, but Damon held her for a moment longer, driven by the very feelings he had come to punish her for.

Then he saw her terrified eyes.

He stopped.

The silence that followed was unbearable.

Faye stumbled away from him, one hand covering her mouth. Her eyes filled with tears.

Damon stared at her.

He had expected satisfaction.

Instead, the sight of her frightened expression stirred something ugly and unfamiliar inside him.

Regret.

He crushed it immediately.

“Look what you've done to me, Faye,” he whispered. “I never wanted to feel anything for you.”

She stared at him in disbelief.

“You did that,” she said, her voice trembling. “I didn't ask you to.”

For the first time that night, Damon had no immediate answer.

Her words struck harder than any bullet.

He could have apologized. A different man might have stepped back, admitted he had crossed a line, and tried to make things right.

Damon Vance was not that man.

His jaw tightened.

“Stay away from me.”

Faye let out a broken laugh through her tears.

“You came into my room!”

His eyes darkened.

“And you will forget what happened here.”

“No.”

The word escaped before fear could stop it.

Damon became perfectly still.

Faye immediately regretted speaking, but she refused to take it back. Her hands were shaking. Tears slipped down her cheeks, yet she forced herself to meet his eyes.

“You can lock me in this house,” she whispered. “You can take away my phone and keep me from everyone I love. But you can't make me pretend you didn't hurt me.”

For several seconds, Damon simply watched her.

Then he smiled again.

That terrible, empty smile.

“Careful, little girl. Courage can be an expensive habit.”

He turned toward the door.

“I'm not afraid of you,” she lied.

His hand paused on the handle.

“That's unfortunate.”

He glanced back at her.

“You should be.”

Then he left.

---

Damon walked down the corridor without looking at anyone.

A guard greeted him.

Damon didn't respond.

Another man accidentally stepped into his path. Damon grabbed him by the collar and slammed him against the wall.

“Were you listening?”

“N-no, boss!”

Damon studied his terrified face for a moment, then released him.

“Good. Because if I discover anyone has been discussing what happens inside that girl's room, I'll personally make sure they never speak again.”

He continued walking as if nothing had happened.

Inside his bedroom, he stood before the mirror.

He could still see Faye's frightened eyes.

He struck the mirror with his fist.

Glass shattered across the floor.

Blood trickled down his knuckles.

Damon looked at his reflection, his expression almost curious.

“What is wrong with you?” he murmured.

He already knew the answer.

Nothing.

He was Damon Vance. He had always been ruthless. He had never needed affection, never wanted tenderness, and never allowed anyone to make him hesitate.

Faye was simply another weakness to eliminate.

That was what he told himself.

But when he finally lay down, he couldn't stop remembering the way she had looked at him.

And for the first time in years, the Reaper couldn't sleep.

Because the monster had frightened the one person he desperately wanted to look at him without fear.

And somehow, that hurt more than anything anyone had ever done to him.

END OF CHAPTER FIVE.