𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐃𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐥'𝐬 𝐒𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐭 | 𝟏𝟖+

38

My hands are shaking violently as I try to stitch myself up. The gash on my leg is pretty deep, the edges ragged and oozing. But I can't go to the hospital. So, I do what Damien and Rome drilled into my head until it became second nature.

I take a deep breath, gritting my teeth as I pierce my skin with the needle. It hurts like a motherfucker, but I push through the pain. As I sew...the tears start to fall once again. Making it almost impossible to see what I'm doing. I wipe my tears and focus again, tying off the last stitch. It looks terrible but it'll have to do.

I drag myself upstairs to the kitchen, my leg throbbing with every step. I grab the first bottle of liquor I see, unscrew the cap and take a long swig. But even the alcohol does nothing to numb the pain.

I pull out my phone and call Damien's number. It rings, and rings, and rings. But no one picks up. So, I try again, and again. But there's still nothing. Just the cold, impersonal beep of his voicemail. I switch to Rome's number, my fingers stumbling over the buttons in my haste. But it's the same thing, the same fucking silence that feels like a knife to the gut.

They're gone. They're really fucking gone. And I'm alone, I'm so alone, and I can't breathe, I can't breathe, I can't-

The panic attack hits me hard, my chest heaving as I gasp for air. I don't know how long it lasts or how long I sit there on the kitchen floor, my body shaking with loud sobs, causing me to vomit into a nearby trash can. Eventually the exhaustion takes over. I just lay on the kitchen floor, my cheek pressed against the cool tile.

Before I can even fall asleep, my eyes snap open at the commotion at the door. Voices raised and urgent, and the sound of something heavy being dragged across the floor.

I quickly stand up, racing towards the noise. And there, in the foyer... is Luis. And in his arms, limp and broken and barely breathing-

"Damien," I choke out.

I rush forward, my hands fluttering uselessly over his body. He's a mess, his skin covered in bruises and cuts and burns. But he's alive.

Luis and I carry him down to the infirmary, laying him out on the table with careful, gentle hands. "Doctor's right behind us," Luis tells me.

My mind instantly flashes back to the worst day of my life, all I can see is Penny lying there on a table just like this one. Her emaciated body flashes in front of me. Another panic attack hits me, my knees buckling as I gasp for air. Luis catches me before I hit the floor, his arms strong and steady around my waist.

"Breathe, Catherine," he murmurs, his voice low and soothing. "He's gonna be alright, he's a tough son of a bitch."

I force myself to take deep, even breaths, as the doctor works on him. "Where did you find him?" I ask Luis.

He sighs, scrubbing a hand over his face. "About five miles out from the Ramirez compound, in the middle of fucking nowhere. I almost didn't see him..."

"How did you even know where to look?"

"I put a tracker in his arm, years ago. You can never be too fucking careful."

I nod and let out a shaky breath. Slowly... I make my way over to the table. Damien looks so fragile, nothing like the strong, indestructible force of nature I know him to be. But he's here and he's alive. I take his hand in mine, as I press my lips to his bruised and bloody knuckles...He came back to me. Just like he always does, just like he always will.

The doctor steps back from the table, pulling off his gloves with a sigh. "He's stable," he tells us, his voice tinged with exhaustion. "We just need to wait for him to wake up now, which should be soon."