CHAPTER 49
DAEMON'S POV
Light didn't just enter the room—it attacked it.
Sharp. Unforgiving. Crawling over my face like it had a personal vendetta against my sleep.
I groaned, dragging the pillow over my head, pressing it down hard enough to suffocate the light out of existence.
"Wake up, baby. It's past ten!"
Her voice.
Sweet to outsiders… but right now? It scraped against my skull.
I didn't move.
Didn't respond.
Just pressed the pillow harder against my face like if I stayed still long enough, she'd disappear… like everything else I failed at.
The bed dipped.
She sat beside me.
"You know you have to face them eventually," she sighed, softer now but heavier. "If you don't get up, they'll hand everything over to Valentino."
That did it.
My body went rigid.
Not a twitch. Not a breath.
Just stillness.
Because the moment she said his name, something ugly rose inside me—something dark and violent, clawing up my throat, begging to be unleashed.
Valentino.
Taking what's mine?
Over my dead body.
I swallowed it.
Forced it down.
Because she wasn't the one I was angry at.
I was angry at myself.
For failing.
For missing my shot.
For letting Christian walk away breathing.
I threw the covers off and walked straight to the shower, not sparing her a single word.
Water hit my skin, hot—burning—but it did nothing to wash off the frustration clinging to me.
She followed.
Of course she did.
"I didn't marry a loser," she said.
That word lingered.
Loser.
"The Daemonikai I know doesn't stop until he wins. Until he crushes whoever stands in his way."
There it was.
That fire.
That push.
I wasn't fond of her—not really. Not with how we ended up together. Not when my heart had been promised elsewhere long before she came into the picture.
But moments like this?
This was where she mattered.
Where she fed something inside me.
I stepped out of the shower, water still dripping down my body, and grabbed her by the waist, pulling her flush against me.
She gasped—then giggled.
I kissed her.
Hard.
Rough.
Like I was trying to reclaim something I had lost.
"You're fucking amazing," I muttered against her skin before pressing a kiss to her forehead.
Not love.
Never love.
But appreciation?
Yes.
I walked into the closet and dressed in what she had laid out for me. Precision. Control. Image.
By the time I sat down for breakfast, I was already calculating my next move.
"Call the families," I told Luca.
His glass paused mid-air before he took a slow sip, eyes studying me over the rim.
"This meeting?" he said, voice calm but edged. "It's not going to go well. You disappeared on everyone. Including me."
I scoffed.
"I'm not your wife. Or theirs."
He chuckled, shaking his head.
"No. But you're their leader. And right now? They need reassurance. They need to hear that you still are their leader."
We stared at each other.
His gaze steady.
Mine searching.
We both knew what was at stake.
"You're—"
The door burst open.
No knock. No hesitation.
They walked in like they owned the place.
Good.
Let them.
Because today?
I was going to remind them exactly who they were dealing with.
Christian had slipped through my fingers once.
That wouldn't happen again.
This time—
I would end him.
BRENDA'S POV
A voice pulled me out of sleep.
Deep. Male. Unfamiliar.
My body reacted before my mind did.
My eyes opened slowly, heavy, cautious… adjusting to the light inch by inch.
He stood there.
Holding a tray.
Food.
Different kinds. Too much of it.
I didn't know him.
He wasn't Christian.
He wasn't the doctor either.
So who the hell was he?
"Good morning… again," he said, smiling like we were old friends.
That smile?
It made me suspicious.
Because nothing about my situation was normal enough for smiles.
"So…" he continued, setting the tray down carefully. "Christian said you didn't want to see him."
Of course I didn't.
He sat at the edge of the bed—but not too close.
Smart.
"I don't know much about pregnant women," he went on, scratching the back of his neck. "But I know people need food. And me? If I skip breakfast, I start hallucinating. I once saw Satan because I was hungry."
I let out a small laugh before I could stop myself.
Damn him.
He seemed… normal.
Too normal.
Still—I stayed alert.
My eyes dropped to the tray.
My stomach betrayed me with a loud, embarrassing growl.
I placed a hand over it, like that would somehow silence it.
"I guess the baby disagrees with you," he said, nudging the tray closer.
Bread. Eggs. Bacon. Fruits.
Perfect.
And yet…
Wrong.
Ever since I got pregnant, my cravings had been doing whatever the hell they wanted with me.
"Do you have sardines?" I asked. "With sourdough?"
The silence that followed?
Loud.
His face froze for a second like I had just asked him for something illegal.
Then slowly…
He nodded.
Minutes later, he came back with exactly what I asked for.
And I didn't even try to act civilized.
I devoured it.
Greedy. Messy. Real.
He just sat there watching me, half amused, half confused.
"You should come downstairs to eat," he said eventually. "Eating in your room isn't exactly… proper."
I nodded, mouth full.
But stepping out of this room?
Into whatever world Christian dragged me into?
Yeah… I wasn't ready for that.
CHRISTIAN'S POV
Footsteps.
Soft.
Careful.
Hopeful.
I didn't even realize I was holding my breath until I exhaled.
The tray was still upstairs.
So she ate.
Good.
That alone eased something in me I didn't want to admit existed.
Reginald came down like a man on a mission, heading straight for the pantry.
"Did she eat?" I asked, keeping my tone casual, sipping my coffee like it didn't matter.
He ignored the question.
Opened cupboards.
Closed them.
Then turned to me.
"Have you ever had sardines with sourdough?"
I blinked.
Once.
Twice.
"No."
He grinned.
"Exactly."
He piled sardines onto a plate like he was feeding a wild animal.
"That's what your baby mama wants."
I stared at the plate like it personally offended me.
He shook his head.
"I don't know who you pissed off… but that baby?" he smirked, "weird as hell."
He walked off.
And for a second, I just stood there thinking—
Sourdough and sardines?
What the hell kind of combination was that?
Then—
Laughter.
From upstairs.
Her laughter.
It hit me straight in the chest.
Warm. Alive. Real.
I moved before I could stop myself.
Quietly.
Slowly.
I pressed my ear against the door like a thief stealing something that didn't belong to him.
I didn't catch words.
Didn't need to.
That sound alone told me everything.
She was okay.
She was… happy.
And it killed me.
Because I wasn't the reason.
I walked away.
Back downstairs.
Dialed Massimo.
"Is Eva with you? Good. I'll send the location. I need her here. Now."
I hung up.
Tried to focus on work.
Failed.
Because all I could hear was her laughter echoing in my head.
And all I could think was—
That should've been me.
The door opened.
Eva walked in, already talking.
"This is the first place I've seen you without security. And hidden? Very hidden. Took me four hours to find it."
I barely reacted.
"I need your help."
She sat down, removing her glasses.
"You're paying for my gas," she said.
A small smirk tugged at my lips.
"It's not work. It's personal."
That got her attention.
"Brenda's here."
Her eyes lit up instantly.
"She came with you?"
I leaned back.
"Not exactly. I kidnapped her."
Upstairs—
Laughter again.
Eva glanced toward it, raising a brow.
"That doesn't sound like kidnapping."
"It's Reginald," I muttered. "He's good at… people."
She nodded.
"So what do you need me for?"
I leaned forward slightly.
"She needs someone. Not me. Not right now. A woman. Someone she can talk to."
I paused.
"Daemon's still out there. I can't let her leave. Not like this."
She studied me carefully.
I already knew what she was going to say—
"Massimo can come."
Her hesitation melted.
She rested her chin on her palm.
"I'm in. But I need to talk to him first."
"He'll agree," I said. "That idiot would walk into hell if you asked him to."
She smiled.
"And that's exactly why I like criminals."
Before I could respond—
She was already heading upstairs.
Straight to her.
And I stayed behind.
Because the one person I wanted to face me…
Was the one person who wouldn't.