Chapter 6 - The Anatomy of Scars
Amelia dabbed the antiseptic onto the cut near Damon's temple. He didn't flinch, his eyes remaining fixed entirely on her face as she worked.
The adrenaline of the battle had settled into an electric, thick tension in the quiet library.
"You're shaking," Damon observed softly, his voice low enough so Ryan and Emily inside the panic room couldn't hear.
"I’m a trauma doctor, Damon. I don't shake," Amelia lied, gently pressing a small butterfly bandage over the clean wound.
"Your hands are steady," Damon corrected, reaching up and gently closing his large, warm hand over her wrist. "It's your pulse. I can see it fluttering right here." His thumb lightly brushed the delicate skin of her inner wrist.
Amelia froze. The touch was soft, entirely at odds with the violent firefight he had just concluded minutes prior.
"You could have been killed," Amelia whispered, refusing to break his gaze.
"I have been shot twice, stabbed once, and targeted by three different grand juries," Damon said, his eyes darkening with a complex emotion. "I don't die easily, Amelia. Especially not when I have something worth protecting inside my home."
"Emily and Leo," she said, her heart hammering against her ribs.
"Yes," Damon agreed slowly, his thumb tracing tiny circles against her pulse point. "And you."
Amelia swallowed hard. "Damon... this is crazy. I live in a quiet apartment in Portland. I fix broken bones and treat pediatric fevers. I don't belong in your world of panic rooms and gunfire."
"I know," Damon said gently, releasing her wrist, though his proximity remained suffocatingly close. "My world is dark, violent, and unforgiving. I never asked for you to step into it, Amelia. But now that you're here..." He paused, his gaze dropping to her lips before rising back to her eyes. "...I find myself entirely unwilling to let you step back out."
"Is that a threat, Mr. Blackwell?" Amelia asked, a slight, challenging spark in her eyes.
"It's a confession," Damon replied softly.
Before Amelia could answer, Marcus, Damon’s head of security, walked into the library, looking solemn. "Boss. We interrogated the driver we captured from the second vehicle."
Damon’s soft demeanor vanished instantly, replaced by a mask of cold iron. He stepped away from Amelia, turning to Marcus. "What did he say?"
"Moretti didn't just guess Emily was here," Marcus said, his voice laced with venom. "They had exact coordinates of the estate's vulnerable entry points. Someone gave them the security schematics."
A heavy, suffocating silence fell over the room.
"A mole," Damon said, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper.
"It has to be," Marcus confirmed. "Only five people had access to the architectural redrafts from last month's security upgrade."
Amelia felt her stomach drop. The fortress wasn't as safe as they thought. The enemy was already inside.
Damon turned his head slowly, looking back toward the long hallway that led to the staff quarters and the medical wing. "Lock down all exits. No staff member, guard, or contractor leaves their assigned quarters. Cut all external comms except my encrypted line."
"Understood, boss," Marcus said, hurrying off to execute the order.
May you like
Damon looked back at Amelia. His eyes were hard, but there was an unmistakable fierce protectiveness in them. "The storm will pass by tomorrow morning, Amelia. But until I clear this house... you don't leave my side. Do you understand?"
"I understand," Amelia said quietly. For the first time since she arrived at the estate, she didn't feel trapped by Damon. She felt that he was the only thing standing between her and absolute chaos.
