Chapter 9 009

DAMIAN'S POV

The music pounded like a second heartbeat in the walls of Nocturne. Bass heavy, arrogant, just like the usual crowd that filled this exclusive club. I leaned back against the cushioned seat of the VIP lounge, glass of scotch in hand, my gaze disinterested as it swept across the crowd below.

Women in glittery dresses laughed too loud, men pretended to be richer than they were, and the air was thick with perfume and desperation. Same thing, different night. But tonight, Blake had insisted I come.

"Unwind," he'd said. "You've been away too long. New York's changed."

I didn't care how much the city had changed. I didn't come back for its parties or empty smiles. I returned because I was done hiding, done running from a past that refused to let me breathe. I had business to handle, and Blake was the only one I trusted to watch my back.

I was about to signal for another drink when my eyes caught on someone at the bar. A woman. No... a broken silhouette.

She sat alone, clutching her glass like it was the only thing keeping her tethered to earth. Her dress was elegant but slightly wrinkled, as if she'd been wearing it for far too long. Her hair was still pinned, though stray curls fell around her face. And her eyes...

Even from this distance, I saw it-grief. Heavy and raw.

"Blake," I murmured, not taking my eyes off her.

He followed my gaze. "You want her removed? Looks like she's had one too many."

"No." I stood slowly. "Stay here."

Blake raised a brow but said nothing as I made my way downstairs. I didn't normally involve myself with strangers, especially not emotionally messy ones. But something about her...

She didn't belong here.

The closer I got, the more obvious it became. Her hands trembled. Her makeup was smudged beneath her eyes. She hadn't even touched the second drink set beside her. She was drowning, silently.

I slid onto the stool beside her. "Rough night?"

She turned sharply, startled, then narrowed her eyes. "Do I look like I want to talk?"

"No," I replied calmly. "But you look like you need someone to talk to."

She scoffed. "That's rich. Let me guess-you're some club knight in a tailored suit come to rescue the poor broken girl?"

"No," I said, unfazed. "I just don't like seeing people fall apart alone."

Her hand tightened around the glass. "I'm not falling apart."

"Sure."

We sat in silence. I didn't push. People reveal more in silence than in conversation. After a moment, she muttered, "It was supposed to be my engagement party tonight."

Ah. That explained the dress.

She went on, not really speaking to me but more to the void, to the glass. "I walked in on my fiancé... with my sister."

That made me blink. I didn't expect her to say it out loud.

"Technically, she's adopted," she added bitterly. "But we grew up together. She was my best friend."

Her voice cracked at the end, and she downed the rest of her drink. The bartender cautiously offered her water, but she waved it off.

"They betrayed me. All of them. My parents chose her. His parents humiliated me. I had no one."

She was unraveling.

I caught the movement of a drunk guy a few stools down standing and heading her way. He bumped into her deliberately, smirking. "Hey pretty, why don't you smile for me?"

I was on my feet before she could flinch.

"Back off," I said coldly.

The man looked at me, about to mouth off, but one glance at my expression shut him up. He staggered away, muttering under his breath.

"You didn't have to do that," she whispered.

"Yes, I did."

I offered her a hand. "Come with me. You don't have to talk. Just... breathe."

She hesitated. Then, slowly, she placed her hand in mine.

I led her to a private lounge upstairs, far from the noise and crowd. She sat down heavily, shoulders sagging.

I poured her a glass of water. "What's your name?"

"Emma."

I nodded. "Damian."

Her lips parted slightly. "You don't look like a Damian."

"What do I look like?"

She didn't answer. Instead, her gaze fell to her lap. "You ever think you knew someone? Trusted them with everything?"

"Yes," I replied without hesitation.

She looked up at me, surprised.

"And they betrayed you?"

"Worse," I said. "They left."

She stared at me for a long time, then finally whispered, "I loved him. I loved all of them. I would've died for them. And tonight, they watched me break and didn't blink."

Her words pierced deeper than she knew.

"I saw him on a call once," she continued softly. "It was the day we went shopping for my engagement gown. I came out to tell him I was ready, and I heard him say Lena's name. I thought... I thought they were planning a surprise."

She laughed bitterly.

"I didn't want to be the insecure fiancée, you know? So I smiled. I smiled and trusted them. Like a fool."

The silence was deafening.

"Now," she whispered, tears finally slipping free, "I have nothing."

I moved closer, placing a gentle hand over hers. "You still have yourself. That's more than most."

She looked at me, broken and fragile, and finally-finally-let herself cry.

A long time passed. I didn't count the minutes. I just sat there and let her lean on me. She was so fragile and she was so new to all this harshness life had to throw out.

Her head dropped against my chest, the scent of vanilla and sorrow wrapping around me. She trembled slightly, whether from the cold or the emotions she was burying deep-I couldn't tell.

I slid my arm around her back without thinking, steadying her. I should've stopped there. I should've stepped back and let her be. But something about the way she held onto me, like I was her last lifeline in a sea of pain, shattered my logic.