Damien's Promise_A Dark Romantic Suspense by Vic Tyler

Author:Vic Tyler [Tyler, Vic]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2019-06-16T23:00:00+00:00

chapter twenty-four

I don’t see Damien for the next few days.

I don’t look for him because I’m too embarrassed, and he probably wants some space.

It seems like we’re avoiding each other, but even if I do want to find him, there’s not much I can do when a master assassin/criminal/mafia general doesn’t want to be found.

On the fourth day of not seeing him anywhere, I get a little uneasy.

This is the longest we’ve gone without seeing each other while we’re still both on the mansion’s grounds.

So I text him, trying to sound casual as I say ‘hi’ and ask what he’s up to.

When I come back from school, he still hasn’t responded.

Dinnertime passes, and it gets late into the evening before I get irritated and text him again, telling him it’s rude to ignore me.

Even if things didn’t go the way either of us wanted, we still care about each other… right?

I wait an hour.

And then two.

He still hasn’t messaged me, and the worst case scenarios run through my mind, making me nauseous and scared.

Did something happen to him? Does he hate me now?

I can’t just let this go. I have to talk to him.

So I call him.

It doesn’t even ring before it goes to voicemail.

No.

It can’t be.

My fingers tremble as I press the call button again.

Voicemail.

Call.

Voicemail.

Call.

Voicemail.

No.

Energy surges through, fueled by indignation and disbelief.

The coward. That asshole. How dare he block me? It’s not like he can hide from me forever.

I knew he was lacking a little in the emotional department like everyone in this stupid mansion is, but this is too much.

The deviants I pass eye me warily as I stomp to the Twelve’s quarter, fuming.

If I were Turan’s size, I’m sure the entire mansion would be shaking right now.

The door slams against the wall when I shove it open. “Damien!”

My eyes skate around the room.

Empty.

Too empty.

His bed is made, and the pile of laundry stacked against the wall is gone.

So are a number of the knives he keeps locked in his drawer.

His favorite guns.

His basic materials kit.

Some of the clothes in his closet.

His backpack’s nowhere to be found.

Only the little collection of trinkets and presents that I organized on the top of his drawer is untouched, and the ones that are knocked over are from how hard I opened and shut the drawers.

Sprinting out, I crash against Kitty’s door, pounding my fists and yelling her name.

It opens, and she looks questioningly at me.

“Where is he?” I demand.

My stomach is already sinking and twisting into itself.

Already suspecting the answer.

And she confirms it. “New York.”

“When?”

“Mmm.” She taps her chin thoughtfully, watching me with amusement as she takes her time. “Three days ago?”

He left. He left right after I kissed him.

A scream threatens to rip out of my throat, but I swallow it. It feels like a ticking bomb inside me.

“Call him,” I grit.

Her lips curl into a smile. “Why?”

My mouth opens and snaps shut.

Because he blocked my phone number.

She probably figured it out, but I don’t want to tell her why it happened.

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