Vincent’s face was cold as he walked outside, following Damon to a secluded area. Both male looked at each other with knowing eyes.
"Don’t think just because you took care of Kyra during our absence, I’ll let you mate with her," Vincent shouted, his red eyes flaring with anger.
Damon laughed, his whole body shaking as his sharp eyes glinted. "Do your opinions even matter? You know what? Maybe after you die, I’ll give her a shoulder to cry on," Damon said with a mocking grin.
"I’m so scared," Vincent said expressionlessly.
"It’s not funny," Damon rolled his eyes. "Do you know why we were attacked? Do you know why they’re specifically targeting us? Because maybe Kyra is..."
Vincent’s eyes narrowed. "Is what?"
Damon stepped closer, his voice lowering. "Because maybe Kyra is the key to sothing much bigger. Sothing they’re desperate to get their hands on. And if we don’t figure it out soon, they’ll keep coming after her, no matter what."
Vincent clenched his fists. "Then I’ll protect her with Lucas. She doesn’t need you."
Damon’s eyes flashed with anger. "You think you can just push aside? I care about Kyra as much as you do."
"Care?" Vincent scoffed. "i don’t think so."
Damon stepped closer, his voice low and dangerous. "You might think you can shut out, but Kyra and I have a bond you can’t break. I’ll be there for her, whether you like it or not."
Vincent’s expression remained cold. "We’ll see about that. Just rember, if you ever put her in danger, I’ll be there to make sure you regret it."
Damon’s eyes turned icy as he t Vincent’s glare. "You can try all you want to push away, but I’m not going anywhere. I’ll protect Kyra, and I’ll make sure she knows who truly cares about her."
With that, Damon turned on his heel and walked away, heading to his ho to cook food for Kyra. Vincent stood there, his fists still clenched, watching Damon’s retreating figure. He then shifted his gaze to the snow-capped mountains in the distance, the cold wind biting at his face.
He let out a deep breath, his mind filled with determination. "I’ll protect you, rainbow," he whispered to himself. "No matter what."
As Damon walked away from Vincent, he muttered under his breath, "I can’t stand that male." He made his way to his simple dwelling, his mind racing with thoughts of Kyra and the ongoing tension with Vincent.
Entering his ho, Damon headed straight to the corner where he stored his food supplies. He opened a small wooden chest and found it empty. Frustration welled up inside him. "Great, just great," he muttered, slamming the chest shut.
Feeling the weight of his worry for Kyra and his irritation with Vincent, he grabbed his bag and stord back outside. The cold air bit at his skin, but he barely noticed as he walked outside.
He needed to gather sothing—anything—to make a simple al for Kyra.
He headed towards the ration shop, hoping to find sothing he could use to prepare a al for Kyra. The cold wind whipped around him but he was thick skinned.
When he arrived at the ration shop, his heart sank. No Beastn was there and Shelves were nearly empty, and only a few ager supplies remained.
Damon sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Just my luck," he muttered, but he wasn’t about to give up.
He grabbed what he could—a few dried herbs, so roots, and a small sack of grains. It wasn’t much, but it would have to do. He quickly made his way back to his house.
Once inside, Damon set to work. He boiled water over the fire, adding the grains and herbs, letting them simr into a simple porridge.
He crushed the roots and mixed them in, hoping the al would provide Kyra with so much-needed strength.
As the food cooked, Damon couldn’t help but think about Kyra.
As Damon prepared the al, his mind was consud with thoughts that grew darker with each passing mont.
His frustration with Vincent and Lucas mingled with his deep concern for Kyra, twisting into a dangerous obsession.
He stirred the pot absently, his thoughts spiraling. "They don’t understand what she ans to ," he muttered to himself. The idea of losing Kyra—or worse, seeing her with soone else—was unbearable. His hands gripped the spoon tighter, knuckles white.
Images of Vincent and Lucas filled his mind, their faces twisted into expressions of triumph and satisfaction as they took Kyra away from him. Damon’s jaw clenched. "They think they can just waltz in and take her from . Not a chance," he whispered, his voice low and dangerous.
He imagined scenarios where he could eliminate his rivals. He thought of ways to set traps, of hidden attacks and ambushes.
His plan beca clearer in his mind—remove Vincent and Lucas, and Kyra would be his, free from any threat or competition.
The notion of killing them seed to offer a grim sense of relief. "If they were out of the way, she’d have no choice but to be with ," he thought, the darkness in his mind growing ever deeper.
After Damon carefully ladled the porridge into a bowl and covered it, he took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. The night was dark and cold.
As he carried the food to Kyra, his eyes were cold and calculating, hiding the obsessive thoughts swirling behind them.
He picked up the bowl and made his way towards the healer’s house, navigating the snowy path.
Upon arriving, Damon entered the warm interior, his breath visible in the air as he walked inside. The healer glanced up as he approached, but Damon didn’t pause to chat. He headed straight for the stairs, where he knew Kyra’s room was located.
He climbed the stairs.
As Damon approached Kyra’s room, he could hear the conversation inside. He paused just outside the door to listen.
"We can’t go back currently. Kyra needs rest. Is there any empty house for us?" Lucas’s voice carried a note of concern.
Reviews
All reviews (0)