Chapter 9 - The Strength of ProtectionIt was Damian. He had canceled his meeting the moment his personal phone alerted him to a security breach at the estate. He had driven his sports car at breakneck speeds from Manhattan, arriving just as the flames took hold.
He didn't care about the historical mansion. He didn't care about the art. He ran straight into the fire, his eyes scanning the smoke until he saw Clara on the floor, coughing violently, her arm burned, her hand still holding Priscilla away from the flames.
Damian scooped Clara into his arms, pulling her tightly against his chest. He looked down at Priscilla, who was weeping on the floor, completely broken by her own madness. "The police are outside, Priscilla," Damian said, his voice cold despite the heat surrounding them. "If you survive the smoke, you will spend the rest of your life in a cell."
He carried Clara out into the cold night air just as the sirens of five fire engines filled the valley.
An hour later, the fire was contained to the west wing. Priscilla and her accomplices were in handcuffs, loaded into the back of state police cruisers, facing charges of arson, attempted murder, and conspiracy.
In the back of an ambulance, Clara sat with an oxygen mask over her face, a sterile bandage wrapped around her burned forearm. She was shivering, but she wasn't alone. Damian was sitting right next to her, his face covered in soot, his hands raw and blistered from where he had cleared burning debris to get to her. He refused to let the medics touch him until Clara was fully treated.
May you like
"You came back," Clara whispered, removing the mask for a moment.
"I will always come back for you, Clara," Damian said, his voice raw with emotion. He took her uninjured hand and pressed it against his cheek. "When I saw that fire... when I thought I might lose you... I realized that this house means nothing. My wealth means nothing. You are the only thing in my life that I cannot afford to lose."
