Silent Dreams Never Die — Author: John Miller 304
Chapter 304 Intruder in the Night
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Zachary saw the blood and the broken glass, his heart aching for his friend. “Damian, why are you doing this to yourself?” he said, his voice heavy with concern. “If you care about her that much, then fight for her. Go and win her back.”
As soon as the words were out, Felix, ever the pragmatist, cut in from beside him. “Coercion isn’t the answer. We need to handle this situation rationally.”
Zachary shot Felix a look of pure exasperation. “Forget the lawyer talk for a minute, will you? Our friend is hurting.”
Felix pressed his lips together and fell silent.
Damian hadn’t processed a word of their exchange. He stared down blankly at his bleeding palm, then pushed himself unsteadily to his feet.
“Damian, where are you going?” Zachary asked, concerned, rising from his seat as well.
Damian was already heading for the exit. “To see her,” he muttered, not looking back. “Don’t follow me.”
It was a little after one in the morning. Scarlett awoke, her throat dry, and got up to use the bathroom attached to her hospital room.
As she came out, she saw, by the dim wash of city light from the window, a figure sitting in the chair beside her bed.
Remembering Vincent’s parting words, she assumed it was him who had returned.
Her voice was cool and tired. “Vincent, I already told you, I don’t need―”
Before she could finish, the figure in the chair stood up abruptly.
As he turned, Scarlett finally saw clearly in the gloom–it wasn’t Vincent. It was Damian.
She froze in surprise. But in the next instant, Damian closed the distance between them. His hands grasped her shoulders, and he guided her backward firmly until she was lying flat on the
mattress.
Before she could react, he leaned over her, planting a knee on either side of her hips, caging her in effortlessly and leaving her no room to slip away.
The strong, sharp scent of whiskey filled the space between them, overwhelming her senses
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Chapter 304 Intruder in the Night
and making her chest feel tight.
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She could see a white bandage wrapped around his right hand, but a patch of crimson was already seeping through the palm area, stark and alarming against the white.
His eyes were bloodshot in the deep night. He stared down into hers, a bitter, pained sneer twisting his lips. “Take a good look,” he demanded, his voice rough. “Who am I? Tell me.”
Scarlett tried to shift, but pinned beneath him, there was nowhere to go. She noticed, however, that despite his aggressive posture, he was careful to keep his full weight braced on his knees, not crushing her.
Seeing his desperate, nearly unhinged expression, she answered softly, “You’re Damian.”
Some of the terrible tension seemed to drain from his body. He let his forehead drop gently until it rested against hers.
They were so close now that their breath mingled, warm and intimate in the quiet room.
Damian didn’t speak for a long moment. He just stared into her eyes, his gaze searching, as if trying to see straight through to her soul.
intense and
Unsettled by his scrutiny, Scarlett asked, her voice barely a whisper, “How… how did you get here?”
in
At her question, Damian buried his face in the curve of her neck. His voice, when it came, was muffled and thick with emotion. “Because I’m a fool. I just had to see you.”
There was a telltale crack in his words, and a fine tremor ran through his body.
Hearing him like this sent a sharp pang of sorrow through Scarlett’s heart. She didn’t know how to respond, so she stayed silent.
A long time seemed to pass before Damian lifted his head again. His eyes were impossibly red. He grabbed her wrist firmly and brought her hand up to his own cheek, slapping it against his skin with a startling force.
He seemed like he wanted to do it again, but Scarlett wrestled her hand back, alarmed. “Damian, stop! What are you doing?”
When he couldn’t move her hand again, he just locked his tormented gaze with hers. “Scarlett,” he said, each word weighted with hurt, “you were the one who started this. You were the one who made a promise. You broke it. You lied to me.”
Scarlett looked back at him, utterly confused. “I don’t understand what you’re talking about.”
Damian stared at her for what felt like an eternity. Finally, a bitter, resigned smile touched his
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lips. “It doesn’t matter if you don’t understand,” he said, his voice dropping to a raw whisper. “Maybe it’s better if you never do.”
If she couldn’t remember the promise between them… if her heart was still so tied to Vincent… then maybe it was for the best. Remembering would only cause her more pain.
And he would rather bear it all himself than see her hurt.
Having said that, Damian pushed himself upright, breaking the charged space between them.
He stood beside the bed, a tall silhouette in the darkened room. Under the cover of night, he quickly lifted a hand and swiped at his face, brushing away the traitorous wetness that had escaped his
eyes.
Scarlett couldn’t make out his expression clearly and couldn’t begin to guess the storm inside him. But she could feel it—a profound, radiating sadness that seemed to fill the room.
Before she could find any words, Damian turned and walked toward the door.
“Damian, wait…” The call left her lips almost of its own accord.
He paused at the doorway, his back to her, and cut her off before she could finish. His voice was low, strained, and final. “Scarlett, for your own sake… I hope you never remember that promise. Not ever.”
Then he was gone, disappearing into the hallway, running as if staying one second longer would shatter what little composure he had left.
Watching the empty space where he had stood, Scarlett slowly let out a breath, the words she might have said dying on her tongue, swallowed back into the heavy silence of the night.
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