Chapter 9 - The UltimatumThe penthouse was quiet again, save for the hum of the air filtration system clearing the faint scent of gunpowder.
Damien walked over to the piano, his hands stained with blood that wasn't his. He dropped his weapons onto the floor, sank to his knees in front of Briar, and gently took her shaking hands in his.
"Are you hurt?" he asked, his voice cracking slightly—a rare fracture in his unbreakable armor. His eyes, usually pools of ice, were raw, terrified, and desperate as he looked at her.
Briar stared at him. She saw the blood on his hands, the bodies lying in the hallway, the terrifying reality of the world he inhabited. But she also saw the way he looked at her—as if she were the only real thing in a universe of monsters.
"I'm okay," Briar whispered, her voice steadying. She reached out, her small hand gently wiping a streak of soot from Damien’s cheek. "You saved me again."
"I will always save you," Damien vowed fiercely, pressing his forehead against her knees. "But Viktor was right. As long as I live in this underworld, my enemies will try to reach me through you. They will never stop hunting us."
Briar pulled back slightly, looking into his dark eyes. "What are you saying, Damien?"
"I’m saying my empire is vast," Damien said, standing up and holding out his hand to her. "I have offshore accounts in Zurich, safe havens in the Swiss Alps, vineyards in Italy, islands in the Pacific. We walk away from New York tonight. We burn the syndicate to the ground in our wake, and we disappear together. Just you, me, and Goliath."
Briar looked out the massive glass window at the sparkling New York skyline. The city where she had starved, worked sixteen-hour shifts, and lived in constant fear of Corbin. A city that had given her nothing but pain—until the night a mafia boss kidnapped her and showed her a twisted, beautiful kind of devotion.
May you like
She placed her small hand into Damien’s large, calloused palm.
"Let's burn it down," Briar said.
