Chapter 62: Waiting
Sofia barely slept through the night.
Each time her eyes finally closed, she snapped them open again, her heart jumping as she stared at the door, waiting for Damien to walk back into the suite. But he never did.
As the hours dragged on, fear slowly replaced exhaustion. She sat stiffly on the couch, her body tense, her eyes fixed on the door. Worry twisted tightly in her chest. Was he okay?
She knew it was foolish. After everything he had done, after the way he had treated her, she shouldn’t care. But old habits didn’t die easily. No matter how much she tried to stop herself, she couldn’t help but worry about him.
Then another thought struck her.
Alexander.
What if Damien had gone after him?
The idea sent a fresh wave of panic crashing through her. Her hands began to shake as she pressed them into her lap.
"Help me, Moon Goddess," she whispered, lifting her eyes to the wall clock.
It was already past nine in the morning. Still no sign of him.
"I should go check on him," she murmured.
Slowly, she stood up and walked to the door. The moment she opened it, three of Damien’s guards came into view, standing rigidly in the hallway. The warning look in their eyes was enough. Her breath caught. She closed the door quickly and retreated back into the room.
Sofia sank onto the couch and began biting her nails—an old habit she always fell into when she was nervous. Minutes passed. Then another hour. Nothing.
Just as her anxiety reached its breaking point, the door finally opened. Damien walked in. The faint smell of alcohol followed him into the room.
Their eyes met.
For a moment, he simply stared at her—not with anger, not with hatred, but with a blank, empty look that unsettled her even more. Sofia swallowed hard and scanned him quickly, her eyes searching his clothes, his hands, his face—looking for blood. Any sign that he had been in a fight.
There was nothing.
His white shirt was clean. No stains. No wounds. A shaky breath escaped her lips as relief washed over her, heavy and unexpected. A weight she hadn’t realized she was carrying finally lifted from her shoulders.
Damien stood in the center of the room, his presence still heavy enough to make the air feel thin. Though his shirt was clean of blood, his hair was disheveled, and the sharp, bitter scent of whiskey and expensive scotch clung to him.
He didn’t move toward her. He simply watched her from the doorway, his eyes tracing the way she was huddled on the couch, her fingers still near her mouth from biting her nails. The blankness in his gaze was almost more unnerving than his rage; it was as if he had spent the night hollowing himself out so he wouldn’t hurt her.
"Pack your things," he said. His voice was like sandpaper—dry and rough. "The cars are out front. We’re leaving now."
Sofia stood up, her body stiff from the hours of tense waiting. "Damien..." she started, her voice trembling. "Did you... is Alpha Alexander—"
"Don’t say his name," Damien cut her off, his jaw ticking. He finally looked away from her, staring at the rumpled sheets of the bed instead. "He’s alive. For now. But if you ever go near him again, I won’t just punch him. I’ll make sure there’s nothing left of his territory to bury him in."
Sofia flinched, but the relief that Alexander was safe was so great she didn’t care about the threat. She moved quickly to the small bag she had, her movements hurried. She felt his eyes return to her, watching the way the midnight-blue gown—now wrinkled and ruined—clung to her soft curves.
"Wait," Damien commanded.
He walked over to the closet and pulled out a heavy, dark trench coat. He stepped behind her, and for a second, Sofia feared he would grab her again. Instead, he draped the coat over her shoulders, covering the silk gown completely. His hands lingered on her shoulders for a heartbeat, his thumbs brushing against the fabric near her neck.
"I don’t want anyone else looking at you today," he muttered, his voice dropping into that low, possessive tone.
He gripped her hand—firmly, but without the bruising force from the night before—and led her out of the suite. The guards fell into step behind them, their boots thudding rhythmically on the carpeted hallway.
As they reached the lobby, Sofia’s heart plummeted. Standing near the entrance, surrounded by his own men, was Alexander. He looked at her immediately, his eyes searching her face for any sign of new bruises. When his gaze moved to Damien, the air between the two Alphas sparked with a lethal tension.
Damien didn’t stop. He pulled Sofia closer to his side, his arm winding around her waist in a silent, public claim.
Alexander stepped forward just an inch, his voice clear enough for everyone to hear. "She won’t be yours for long, Damien. You can lock a diamond in a dark room, but it doesn’t stop it from being a diamond."
Damien’s grip tightened, but he kept walking, dragging Sofia toward the black armored SUV waiting at the curb. He shoved her into the backseat and climbed in after her, slamming the door so hard the glass rattled.
"Drive," Damien barked at the driver.
As the car drove, Damien reached for the console and pulled out a fresh bottle of expensive whiskey. With a sharp twist of his wrist, he broke the seal and took a long, burning swallow straight from the bottle.
Sofia sat pressed against the door, wanting to give him enough space. She watched him out of the corner of her eye, her heart still racing from the encounter in the lobby.
Damien wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, his knuckles still slightly bruised from the punch he’d landed on Alexander. He didn’t look at her, but his presence wrapped around her.
"What did he tell you?" Damien asked, his voice low and roughened by the alcohol.
Sofia swallowed hard, her fingers twisting the fabric of the coat over her. "Nothing..." she whispered.
Damien took another heavy swig, his eyes fixed on the passing city buildings, though he was clearly seeing nothing but his own demons.
"Nothing?" he repeated, his voice dropping into a low, enraged tone. "You spent almost an hour in a suite with a man, and you discussed nothing?"
"We just talked, Damien," Sofia whispered, shrinking further into the corner.
Damien finally turned his head. His eyes weren’t just gold; they were turbulent, bloodshot, and agonizingly focused on her mouth. He saw the way her lips were still slightly stung.
"Maybe I should do it the hard way," he rasped. With a sudden, fluid motion, he set the bottle down and moved across the leather seat.
Sofia gasped as his hands clamped onto her waist. Before she could protest, he hoisted her up, dragging her across the seat and onto his lap. The trench coat bunched up, revealing her exposed thighs as she was forced to straddle his thick, muscular thighs.