Chapter 1
DAMON'S P.O.V.
It was a calm night—or so it seemed. The stars had vanished, swallowed by the bright city lights, and only a few clouds in dark silhouettes drifted through the vast darkness above. The hour was edging closer to midnight, yet the streets below thrummed with life. I might as well have been in plain sight, but the height of the five-story building and the fact that it was one of the few structures entirely shrouded in darkness worked to my advantage. Here, I could savor the solitude and the night air as I wished.
Nearby, a park beckoned, its trees whispering secrets to the night. I longed more than anything to slip between them, to be engulfed by the fragrances of nature, but the park was too well-lit and too close to residential areas. My presence would be noticed. So, I stayed put, my gaze fixated longingly on the distant tree line. Maybe if I hadn’t been so focused, I wouldn’t have noticed the sharp crack that split the quiet, startling me in my perch.
What was that? The sound was enough to send birds fleeing from their sleep, wings beating frantically against the night sky. I strained my ears, trying to catch more, but the noise had already faded, leaving only silence in its wake. It had been faint, almost imperceptible, and I realized then that my enhanced senses had been the only thing allowing me to hear it. My wings fluttered instinctively, ready to take flight as I tried to pinpoint which alleyway the sound had come from—if it had come from an alleyway at all. I held my breath, hoping for another clue, and then I heard it.
"Let’s dump him in that alley; he’ll be dead in no time." The words were whispered, so low they were barely audible, but I caught them. A moment later, the screech of multiple car tires on rough asphalt shattered the stillness, followed by the unmistakable sound of a vehicle skidding to a stop. My eyes snapped to the source of the noise.
I leaned forward, wings ready to propel me toward the sound, but a voice of caution hissed in my mind, Leave it. I forced myself back, but my instincts battled with my sense of reason. A faint breeze carried a scent that froze me in place—coppery, metallic. Blood. Someone was injured. My mind whispered urgently, Or he could be the one who caused it. Leave it.
Still, I hesitated, trying to talk myself out of acting on my curiosity. But the smell of blood only grew stronger. My ears picked up another voice, hurried and panicked. "Quick! Let’s leave before someone catches us!" A man, sounding frantic, hissed to his companions. A flash of movement caught my eye—three figures rushing toward a sleek, black limousine. They jumped in, and the driver gunned the engine. The car peeled away, tires screaming against the road.
I tried to push the encounter from my mind, but my heightened senses caught something more. From within the shadows of a nearby alley, I heard faint, struggling breaths. The sound seemed to radiate from the inside of a squirming black body bag, abandoned by those men just moments before. The sight stirred something within me. My mind chanted again, Leave it! Go! But my conscience wouldn't let me ignore what I was hearing.
I couldn’t help myself. With a single powerful flap, my wings carried me off the rooftop. I glided silently through the air, heading straight for the source of the breathing. I landed lightly in the alley, eyes scanning the darkness for potential threats. To me, the alley was illuminated by the faint glow of my senses, but to any ordinary human, it would have been pitch-black. My gaze landed on the squirming bag. I approached it cautiously and poked gently at its side.
A muffled groan emanated from within, causing me to startle back, my heart hammering in my chest. There was no doubt now—someone was inside, someone alive but injured. The smell of fresh blood was stronger here, a sickening tang that turned my stomach. My mind screamed at me to leave, to fly away before I got caught up in something that would expose my existence. But the sound of the person’s labored breathing tugged at my conscience.
I began pacing, my mind a whirlwind of conflicting thoughts. Should I help this person? What if they were dangerous? What if, when I opened the bag, they saw my face and later exposed me? The risk of being discovered weighed heavily on me. I was still debating when the reality of the situation hit me hard: Think fast before they die! I hissed at myself, driven by the frantic, uneven breaths I could hear from the bag.
Unable to stand the sound any longer, I knelt beside the bag. With hands that shook, I began unzipping it, each click of the zipper loud in the quiet of the alley. When the bag opened, I found myself staring at the most beautiful face I had ever seen on a man. His skin was smooth, unblemished except for fresh wounds marring his flesh. His eyes were closed, but I could see them moving restlessly beneath his lids. His lips were parted by a gag, the cloth making them quiver as if he were trying to speak.
My gaze traveled to the source of the blood scent, and my stomach clenched at the sight of a deep, nasty wound. The injury was bad enough to kill most people, but somehow, this man was still breathing. Tentatively, I reached to inspect the wound more closely. Suddenly, his hand shot out, grabbing mine. I gasped, startled.
“Help me, please,” he whispered, his voice weak and full of fear. His eyes fluttered open, revealing irises as black as night, filled with terror. He looked at me, his gaze pleading, and then his eyes slid shut again, his breaths turning shallow. Panic surged through me. I needed to act fast.
Without wasting another second, I bent down and scooped the injured man into my arms, holding him bridal-style. To my surprise, he was lighter than I’d expected, and I found it easy to lift him. My wings unfurled, and I launched us both into the air, flying as fast as I could toward an abandoned building I often used as a safe haven. It was closer than I thought, a small blessing on this chaotic night.
******
“You… you’re go…ing to pay for… this, I swear it…” the man mumbled as I laid him gently on my bed. His words were slurred, feverish, and his mind fogged with pain and delirium. His body was burning up, sweat glistening on his skin like droplets of boiling water, and the wound on his side kept oozing blood. I hurried to a cabinet filled with medical supplies I’d accumulated over the years, the tools of my self-imposed exile and survival. Grabbing disinfectants, cotton balls, a sewing kit, and bandages, I rushed back to him.
The next few minutes were a blur of pain management and wound care. I struggled to stitch the gash closed without making him scream. I forced painkillers down his throat, hoping they would take effect soon. His breathing eased slightly as he fell into a fitful sleep. Exhausted, I sank into a chair beside the bed, my eyes drifting over his face. He was stunning, even in his current state. His features were almost ethereal, unmarred save for the fresh wounds. His jawline was sharp and angular, his nose perfectly straight, and his eyelashes were so long they cast faint shadows on his cheeks.
The memory of his eyes flashed through my mind—dark and full of stormy emotions. He was dangerous, I reminded myself. Beautiful but dangerous. He needed to be somewhere else, somewhere safe, but not here. My place wasn’t a sanctuary for anyone but me. But as I continued to watch him, I found myself reluctant to let him go. What was it about him that made me want to protect him?
As I wrestled with my confusion, the man stirred. A firm hand lifted to my face, his fingers brushing against my cheek with surprising tenderness. I stared at him, startled, and his eyelids fluttered open, revealing those mesmerizing black eyes once more. “Yo…u are as beau…tiful as an angel,” he breathed, his voice soft and slurred. His eyes closed again, and he slipped back into unconsciousness.
Those words shook me to my core, snapping me back to reality. This man was a threat, a danger to my carefully constructed world. He needed to leave. I couldn’t afford to get attached, to let my guard down. My life was built on secrecy, on staying hidden. No matter how drawn I was to him, he had to go. He was a dream, one I could never afford to chase. Not in this lifetime.
