Chapter 59

DAMON

“She signed it,” Luca said, storming into my office, file in hand. He slammed it on the table. I was shocked. Yes, I’d signed it and asked him to give it to her, but I hadn't expected her to sign it so quickly.

“So, what now? Divorce?” he asked. I frowned, staring at the file.

“I guess so. She’s useless to me now,” I muttered, attempting to return to the document I was reading when Luca’s fist pounded the table.

“You’re divorcing her over this? You always have anger issues, and letting go is hard for you, but you like her. Hell, she’s the first girl you’ve ever obsessed over, and you’re throwing her away because she can’t have a child?” He questioned, and I groaned.

“What else can I do? I need a blood heir, Luca, and she can’t give me that. If we stay married, I’d have to take a mistress—”

“You know there are other ways to get a blood heir. You could try surrogacy. And you’re going to lose the one girl you love…”

“I don’t love her. It’s this fucking mate bond…”

“Still using that excuse? You love her, Damon. You’re obsessed! This attitude is driving her away. I’m your friend; she’s good for you. Don’t push her away over this,” he said. I frowned.

“The deed is done. She signed it; she doesn’t want this. I can’t force her…”

“Are you dumb, or just trying to annoy me? Do whatever you want. Don’t come crying to me when she’s moved on. Reject her and let her be free,” he muttered. I clenched my fist.

“Watch your tone, Luca,” I said. He stared, scoffed, and left. I didn’t stop him; he was right. Stubborn me.

“How could she just sign it?” I muttered, scoffing and glaring at her signature. “Don’t I have a right to be mad?” I murmured, sighing and massaging my temples.

Fine. I’d cave, but not now. I’d focus on work. I hadn’t spoken to my parents since the meeting, and they hadn’t contacted me either. After Delilah’s comment, I knew my mother felt bad.

“Focus,” I muttered, staring back at the file. I hadn’t gotten anything done since this incident; every day, I fought the urge to run to Clara. I shouldn’t… I couldn’t be soft. She needed to understand the severity of her actions, and space was the only way she’d learn. The divorce papers were extreme, but I hadn’t expected her to sign them.

“Focus,” I muttered. After a while, I managed some work. Later that night, after about six hours of sitting, my body ached, so I took a walk.

As I left the office, I found Luca and Delilah talking. Delilah huffed and started to leave when I stopped her.

“Can you two stop judging me?” I asked. She glared.

“You’re hurting my best friend, so yes, I’m judging you. I have a problem with you now, Damon,” she muttered. I sighed, massaging my temples.

“Will it make you happy if I see Clara tonight?” I asked. Their eyes widened.

“Seriously?” Delilah shrieked, running to hug me. “Go to her, Damon. She misses you; she was heartbroken by the divorce papers,” she murmured. I gently pushed her away.

Though excited, I kept my composure, turning to Luca, who was smiling.

“Go to her,” Luca said. I nodded.

“Hurry. She said she’s leaving the pack and the house,” Delilah said. My eyes widened.

“What?!” I boomed. She turned to Luca. “You didn’t tell him?” she asked. Luca looked guilty. I glared at him and ran to get my phone.

I froze at eight missed calls from Clara and a voice note. I played it; my blood ran cold.

“I regret meeting you,” she said. Then, a male voice, and her scream.

I didn’t realize I was running until I heard Luca and Delilah calling. My heart pounded as I ran to the car, grabbing the keys from the driver. Clara was in trouble; she’d called for help, and I…

My fingers clenched the steering wheel as I sped up. Clara was in trouble.

“Clara, please, hold on. I’m coming,” I murmured, her screams echoing in my head. Shit. I shouldn’t be late. God, please!

The house came into view. I jumped out, not bothering to park, and ran inside. The only sound was the ringing in my ears as I stared at Clara’s bloodied body. She was injured and bleeding profusely. She looked…dead.

I turned to the masked man standing over her with a knife. I saw red. I pounced before he could escape. He swung the knife, slicing my arm, but I didn’t feel it. I felt numb.

I grabbed his neck, digging in my claws, and smashed his head against the wall repeatedly, dragging it along, leaving a trail of blood, then punching his jaw.

He fell, begging for mercy, but I heard nothing. I saw his mouth moving, but all I heard was ringing. I grabbed the knife, slit his mouth ear to ear, pulled out his tongue, and smashed his teeth.

He deserved the worst pain for touching my wife. No one touched my wife!

I slit his throat slowly, about to skin him alive, when someone pulled me away.

“Now’s not the time. We need to get Clara to the hospital!” Luca yelled. His voice brought me back.

I dropped the knife, turned, and saw Delilah holding Clara, crying. I rushed to them, scooped Clara into my arms, and ran out.

“It’s okay, my love. Just stay with me,” I murmured, getting in the backseat while Luca drove and Delilah sat beside him.

“I’ll drive as fast as I can,” he said. But I wasn’t listening. I stared at my wife, her skin growing cold, her lips white. Only the faint beat of her heart gave me hope, and I clung to it.

I pulled her close, tears streaming down my face. I’d never been so scared.

“I can’t lose you, Clara. I don’t want to lose you.”