Chapter 11
462words
His face turned grave—worse than when he'd pulled me from the elevator. Deathly silence filled the apartment; I heard only his breathing growing heavier.
"…I understand."
He hung up and stood frozen like a statue.
"What happened?" I asked, dread coiling around my heart.
He turned to face me slowly. Those eyes that had burned with victory now held only arctic coldness and… wariness.
"News from my informant," his voice dropped low, almost to himself. "Marcus Thorne has called his son back."
The news didn't sound particularly alarming.
"His son?"
"Julian Thorne." When Damian said the name, his jaw clenched tight. "A true psychopath."
He walked to the central console and pulled up a photo.
The photo showed an incredibly handsome young man. He had his father's blue eyes, but without the hypocritical smile—only pure, undisguised, serpentine malice. His smile made me shiver, like he might pull a knife and cheerfully plunge it into your heart while maintaining eye contact.
"Julian operates in Europe, handling the family's dirtiest business," Damian's voice carried unusual weariness. "He never appears publicly—a venomous snake in the shadows. Marcus sees him as his perfect 'creation.' His final trump card."
"He called him back… because of what we did?"
"No," Damian shook his head, and his denial sent ice through my veins. "Marcus is angry, but he's arrogant and paranoid. He'd suspect business rivals first. He wouldn't—doesn't dare—casually deploy Julian."
"Unless," he looked directly at me, "he's facing something bigger than he can handle alone."
My mind raced.
"You're saying our attack was just a coincidence?"
"A fatal coincidence," he corrected. "We thought we were the hunters, not realizing we were just scavengers in a bigger predator's territory."
"Someone else is attacking Thorne—someone more dangerous. Our action was just the final straw, forcing Thorne to misjudge and reveal his trump card too early."
As I stared at Julian's handsome yet sinister face, a chill ran from my feet to the crown of my head.
We thought we'd cut off one of Thorne's fingers, never realizing we'd awakened a sleeping hydra far more terrifying than its father.
The old war, just when we thought we'd won, had actually ended.
And a grander, bloodier, more dangerous war had already begun drumming in places unknown to us.
Damian moved beside me. We stood shoulder to shoulder at the massive window, watching the city awaken. Sunlight broke through the clouds, painting the steel jungle with deceptively warm golden light.
"Welcome to the real hell, Elena," he said.
I didn't answer.
I just stared into the distance, knowing there was no turning back now.
But from an angle he couldn't see, a smile curled at the corner of my lips. This was exactly what I'd been waiting for.
