Chapter Five (Part 2) – The Fugitive Heart
562 Words
(Damian’s POV)
Pain hit before memory did.
A deep, burning ache spread through his side, every breath a fight. When Damian tried to move, metal clinked around his wrist—handcuffs. Cold, tight.
He blinked against the dim light. Concrete walls. The faint hum of machinery. Somewhere far above, he could hear waves.
A basement.
He gritted his teeth, forcing himself upright. The last thing he remembered was Luca—the gun, the flash, Isabella’s scream—then nothing.
Now he was here. Alive, somehow. Which meant Luca hadn’t wanted him dead. Not yet.
The door creaked open. A figure stepped inside.
Luca.
Of course.
He looked infuriatingly calm, dressed in a black suit, no trace of rain on him. “You’re awake,” he said. “Good.”
Damian’s voice came out hoarse. “Where is she?”
Luca smiled faintly. “Safe. For now.”
“Don’t lie to me.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it.” Luca leaned against the wall, hands in his pockets. “You always were dramatic, brother. I saved your life tonight.”
Damian let out a bitter laugh. “By shooting me?”
“I aimed to wound. If I wanted you dead, you’d be floating in the Aegean right now.”
“Why?”
Luca’s expression flickered—just for a second, something like pain. “Because I still need you.”
Silence stretched between them, thick with years of history neither could untangle.
Finally, Damian said, “This isn’t about the family. Or the cartel. This is about her.”
Luca’s jaw tightened. “You think I’d risk all this over a woman?”
“I know you would.”
Luca’s eyes darkened. “You never did learn when to shut up.”
He pulled a phone from his pocket, turned the screen toward Damian. A grainy security feed flickered—a shot of Isabella, alone in her car, somewhere along the coast.
“She’s running,” Luca said softly. “Straight into something she can’t handle. You put her there, Damian.”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
Luca stepped closer. “You told her everything—except the truth. About Madrid. About the fire.”
Damian froze. “That was an accident.”
Luca gave a low laugh. “You still believe that?”
“I know it,” Damian snapped.
Luca crouched beside him, voice dropping to a whisper. “Then why did she have your name written on her contact’s last message before he died?”
Damian’s heart stuttered. “You’re lying.”
“Am I?” Luca stood again, pocketing the phone. “You’ve been protecting her from the wrong monster, brother. Maybe she’s not the victim you think she is.”
The door clicked shut, leaving Damian alone with the echo of those words.
He slumped back against the wall, mind spinning.
Madrid. The fire. Isabella.
He’d spent years trying to bury the past, to atone for what happened that night. But if Luca was right… if Isabella had been there—
No. Impossible.
Still, doubt clawed at him, sharp and relentless.
And beneath it all, something else—fear.
Because even chained, wounded, and half-conscious, one truth pulsed through his mind:
He still loved her.
And if Luca had gone after her, love might not be enough to save either of them.
- Writer
