POV: Damian
The world was gone. The roaring of the storm, the cold of the concrete floor, the very feeling of the air in my lungs—it had all dissolved into a meaningless, grey fog. Seraphina's final words had been a key, unlocking the last door of my ignorance and revealing a truth so monstrous it had annihilated my soul.
*Our child.*
The two words were the only thing left. They echoed in the silent, ruined cathedral of my mind, a relentless, unending funeral bell. I was a hollowed-out thing, a scarecrow stuffed with the straw of my own sins, left kneeling in the dust of the life I had single-handedly demolished.
I didn't register the heavy door groaning open again. I didn't hear the footsteps that approached. My universe had shrunk to the size of a memory I didn't have, a grief for a person I had never known.
A presence of pure, murderous rage radiated before me. Then, a hand, brutal and strong, knotted in the collar of my shirt, hauling me from the ground as if I were a sack of grain.
My head lolled back. Through the grey fog, Jax's face swam into focus. His features were contorted into a mask of such profound hatred it was barely human. His eyes were burning with a desire to kill. I almost wished he would.
He slammed me back against a stack of damp, splintered crates. The impact barely registered.
"You think this is just about the child?" he snarled, his voice a low, guttural growl that was more wolf than man. "You think that's the only life you have to answer for? The only family you destroyed?"


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