Chapter 21 – The Touch of Betrayal
Chapter 21 – The Touch of Betrayal
The beeping machines around Damon’s hospital bed were the only indication that time hadn’t stopped. Aurora sat rigidly in the chair beside him, her hands clenched in her lap as the monitors tracked his shallow breathing. He had been unconscious for hours now, the bullet grazing his side narrowly avoiding major organs—thanks to fate or irony, she couldn’t decide.
She hadn’t slept.
Neither had Celeste.
But Celeste had stayed away after her initial visit, giving Aurora space. Or rather, Damon’s mother had subtly pulled her aside, whispering something into her ear that made the girl’s face pale. Whatever it was, it worked. She left shortly after, leaving Aurora alone in the sterile white room that smelled of antiseptic and regret.
“You idiot,” Aurora whispered to Damon, her voice trembling. “You keep doing this… running headfirst into danger like your life means nothing.”
Her hand hovered above his, hesitating, before finally settling gently on top. The moment her skin touched his, something sparked. An overwhelming wave of memories, soft and brutal all at once. His arms around her in Milan. His lips on her neck. His voice whispering I’ll find you when she had tried to run. She could almost hear it now, like a phantom echo.
The door creaked open. Aurora quickly pulled her hand back, wiping her eyes.
It was Luca.
He entered quietly, carrying two cups of coffee and a brown paper bag. “You haven’t eaten all day.”
Aurora’s throat tightened. “I couldn’t.”
Luca handed her the cup anyway and settled into the chair opposite her. “I know you don’t want to leave his side. But you need strength too.”
She gave a small, grateful nod, though the coffee went untouched in her hands.
“He’s strong,” Luca said gently. “He’ll wake up.”
Aurora looked at Damon’s pale face. “He better.”
Silence fell again, heavy but not unwelcome. Luca, ever patient, simply sat there, allowing her to breathe. It was something Aurora was starting to appreciate more than words. But deep inside, she knew. This wasn’t just comfort. Luca had fallen for her.
And that terrified her.
She couldn’t open her heart to anyone—not while it still bled for Damon. Not while the feel of Damon’s hand still lingered on her skin like a brand.
When Luca finally stood and offered to give her a break, she only shook her head.
“I’ll stay.”
He paused, then nodded. But just before he left, his hand brushed her shoulder gently.
“I’m here,” he said. “If you need anything. Anything at all.”
The door clicked shut.
Aurora sighed, sinking deeper into the chair. The coffee still warmed her palms, though she didn’t drink. She gazed at Damon again.
“You need to wake up, Damon,” she murmured. “Because I can’t do this without you.”
---
It was late evening when Damon stirred. Aurora had dozed off, chin resting on her chest, when a groggy whisper broke the silence.
“…Aurora?”
She snapped awake, nearly dropping the cup in her lap. “Damon!”
His eyes fluttered open, pain flickering in their depths. “What… what happened?”
“You were shot,” she said, tears spilling now. “You idiot! Someone tried to kill you.”
He groaned, wincing as he shifted. “Figures… Should’ve seen it coming.”
“Don’t move.” She touched his hand. “You’re safe. You’re in the hospital. We leaked the evidence. Gregory’s in custody.”
His gaze focused more clearly on her. “You stayed.”
The words were soft, almost a question.
Aurora nodded. “Of course I did.”
He turned his hand, their fingers brushing.
“I dreamt of you,” Damon whispered, his voice raw. “All night. You were screaming my name… begging me to come back.”
She swallowed hard. “Maybe I was.”
Their eyes met. The intensity between them had never died—it had just been buried, layered beneath hurt, betrayal, misunderstanding. But in that moment, it surfaced, undeniable.
And then the door burst open.
Celeste.
Her eyes widened at the sight of them—Aurora’s hand cradling Damon’s. She stopped in her tracks, her lips parting.
“I—I didn’t mean to interrupt.”
Aurora stood abruptly. “I was just… checking on him. He’s awake now.”
She grabbed her bag and brushed past Celeste, fleeing the room without another word.
Celeste stepped in, her face unreadable. She waited until Aurora was gone before turning to Damon.
“You’re awake,” she said softly.
“I guess I’m hard to kill,” he muttered.
She smiled faintly, but her expression was distant. She pulled a chair close and sat down.
“I saw her with you,” Celeste said. “The way she looked at you. Like losing you would destroy her.”
Damon didn’t answer.
“Do you still love her?”
He closed his eyes, exhaling slowly. “It doesn’t matter.”
“Yes,” Celeste replied. “It does. Because I need to know what we are, Damon. I need to know if I’m just a placeholder in a war you’re still fighting with your heart.”
“I never meant to lead you on.”
“But you did.”
He opened his eyes again, locking onto hers.
“I don’t know how to stop loving her,” he admitted. “Even when I hate her. Even when I try to forget. She’s still there. Everywhere.”
Celeste blinked back emotion, but nodded.
“At least you’re honest.”
She stood, straightening her coat. “Then I’ll stop trying. You should too. Because love without peace is just obsession.”
She left him in the sterile silence once more.
---
Later that night, Aurora lay in her room at the safehouse Caleb had arranged. She couldn’t sleep. Every time she closed her eyes, Damon’s voice haunted her.
“I dreamt of you…”
She turned over in bed, trying to will away the ache in her chest. But the dream came anyway.
---
In the dream, she stood at the edge of a cliff, wind tearing through her hair. Damon was there, shirt unbuttoned, skin glowing like gold in the sunset. He reached for her, his fingers brushing her bare arm.
“Why do you keep running?” he asked.
“Because you’re a storm,” she whispered. “And I’ve already drowned.”
He smiled, dark and tender. “Then let me drown with you.”
His hands slid up her arms, pulling her close. Lips crashed onto hers—hot, desperate, demanding. The world spun. His mouth found the hollow of her neck, his breath searing against her skin.
“I hate you,” she gasped.
“I know,” he growled, lifting her. “Hate me harder.”
She woke with a gasp, sweat slicking her body. The sheets were twisted around her legs, her heartbeat thunderous.
It was just a dream.
But her lips still burned.
---
Back at the hospital, Damon jolted awake.
He had dreamt of Aurora.
Again.
Only this time, she wasn’t screaming.
She was moaning his name, tangled beneath him. Their bodies had fit like puzzle pieces. Her nails had scored his back. Her breath had trembled in his ear.
He looked around the empty room, chest heaving.
And he knew.
He was losing his mind. Or maybe his heart had never stopped hoping.
Either way… the war between hate and love was far from over.