The convoy screeched to a stop in front of the black iron gates of Damien’s mansion. The smell of burning rubber filled the air as his car doors flew open.
“Get the doctor! NOW!” Damien roared, clutching his side, blood seeping through the fabric of his royal black coat. His jaw was tight, and his hair was damp with sweat.
Two men rushed to help him, but he slapped one across the face. “Don’t touch me! I can walk.”
He stumbled, nearly falling. One of the guards reached again, but Damien shoved him off with a grunt.
“What happened to you, sir?” one of the convoy men asked, wide-eyed as they followed him up the marble steps.
“I said SHUT UP!” Damien snapped, dragging himself through the grand doors. He limped past the long corridor, his breath sharp and uneven.
The men exchanged worrie
