Chereads / Salvatore Saga, Part One:My life with Damon. / Chapter 553 - 32. My Heart Will Go On.

Chapter 553 - 32. My Heart Will Go On.

After my very passionate heat subsided, I embarked on a journey to New Mexico, where I had a series of gigs lined up. As I reclaimed my role as the leader of my organization, uncertainty loomed over the whereabouts of Damon and the other men who also took on gigs. Bran made relentless efforts to persuade them to work under his command.

I did not doubt that he might have managed to lure Adam and Charles to some missions for him, too. Samuel had left clinics, infections called him like a siren's song, and he was determined to learn and heal. He wanted to study each pathogen that was possible, just in case those bugs would get me, so he would have some idea how to treat those infections. 

After a long, exhausting drive, I arrived at a bustling base in New Mexico. this was one of our bigger bases and quite busy almost all the time as there was a lot of nasty activity in New Mexico, so we were needed. As I familiarized myself with the overall situation, I strolled through the area, absorbing the sounds of footsteps and conversations, and carefully assessing our operations. If anyone had inquiries or sought advice, I willingly offered my guidance.

There was no room for hesitation or doubt in this unit; my word was law, and they unquestionably obeyed. This immense power weighed heavily on me, reminding me to exercise restraint and stay grounded. However, it wasn't a simple task, as there was no one brave enough to challenge me. Of course, I had my reputation, and a lot of questions were asked just in case so they would know that I had no problem with their plan. 

Seeking solitude, I retreated to my study, where I focused on the sniper situation and strategized for the twelve explosive missions I planned to personally undertake. These missions targeted Sark's facilities, such as his warehouses and databanks. Taking them down would deliver a significant blow to him. I was ready to do anything bad for Sark and this would be my message to him personally that I was still here, ready to wreak havoc in his plans and his facilities. 

With meticulous precision, I began crafting a plan, consulting our demolition teams about the availability of specific explosives. Unsurprisingly, we lacked the necessary quantities, forcing me to adapt my flawless plan. This reality frustrated me, as Murdock had failed to secure an ample supply, leaving us with limited stocks that needed to be distributed among many bases. Despite this setback, we possessed an assortment of alternative explosives that could be utilized. 

It is not uncommon that these explosives were in short supply as they were handy, strong enough, stable enough to be handled, no need to be too careful with them, and they were efficient. We were getting them all the time, but the next delivery would be over three weeks, as we had used them all up. We had over 70 bases in North America and each of them had their own supply of explosives and they were used, so this was just an everyday problem here. In this line of work.

Over the course of four days, I visited as many safety deposit boxes as possible, collecting additional explosives, firearms, money, and various other items. Among them was a large briefcase filled with drugs and samples. I intended to analyze them at a later time, curious about their effects on me.

I returned to the base, stepping into our massive, well-lit hall that still buzzed with the hum of computers. Soft murmurs from different conversations filled the air as I walked, carrying my bulky sports bag and briefcase, the weight pressing against my side. The familiar scent of metal and electricity lingered in the air.

Reaching my office, I carefully placed my loot on the table, the cool surface contrasting with the warmth of my palms. I arranged the detonators on another table and called for Jeremiah, our explosive expert. He was relatively new, so I hadn't had a chance to get to know him well. Tall and nicely presented, his buzz cut gave him an air of professionalism. Despite his polite demeanor and quiet manner, there was a wariness in his eyes whenever he looked at me.

Using my phone, I dialed his number. "Jeremiah, would you please come to my office? I have new explosives from my safes, and I would appreciate your opinion on them."

He replied, "Sure, no problem. I'll be there soon."

Five minutes later, I heard a knock on the door.

"Come in," I said, and Jeremiah entered. I gestured towards my loot, spread out on the table. "Quite a lot of novelties here, and I have 12 missions involving explosions. I want to know if I can use these."

Jeremiah looked at me and replied, "Surely, you can use them. But what they do is a different story. These are experimental, meaning I haven't tested them yet."

He pointed at about a third of my loot. 

Then he took half of the remaining explosives. "These are about 505 times stronger than F-89. They can blow a hole in a mountain, so be extremely cautious with these. A little goes a long way."

He then gestured towards the rest of the explosives. "These are milder, similar to normal TNT. You'll need larger quantities of these."

Jeremiah moved on to examine the detonators, grunting softly as he carefully matched each one with the corresponding explosive. After finishing his inspection, he excused himself and left.

I began making calculations, contemplating how to make the best use of my loot for my upcoming missions. Unbeknownst to me, Jeremiah was actually Damon's trustee, keeping a watchful eye on me at Damon's request. Oblivious to his betrayal, I continued with my planning.

One advantage of these missions was that they were not time-sensitive. There were no lives to save, only targets to destroy. I had ample time to devise a well-thought-out plan. I had to same time do some sniper work, meaning see who we had free and give them targets from our list. This was something that was done by others too, but this was in low priority, so there were always sniper targets to be handed over to our sniper teams. I used about five to six hours each day to do this, so I got quite a lot done, too.

After meticulously planning for two days, a polite knock on my door jolted my attention upwards. It was David, our operation manager, stationed at this base.

"Sorry to disturb you, boss," he apologized, "but there's someone who wishes to see you. I wasn't sure if you were open to meeting anyone."

David, a middle-aged man with a soldier's past, had found his place in my organization due to a shoulder injury that prevented his return to the army. Although Colin had successfully operated on his shoulder, the army considered him no longer one of their own. Nonetheless, he had become an exceptional leader for the humans in our organization. With his greying hair untouched by thinning, his careful brown eyes regarded me. He respected me, yet fear lingered within him.

"Sure, send them in. I am available," I responded.

Without disclosing the visitor's identity, David left, allowing the door to swing open. Standing before me was Damon, leaning against the doorframe, one eyebrow raised in appraisal.

"Hello, darling. What have you been up to?" he inquired, his eyes scanning the stack of papers and my drug briefcase.

In his hands, he casually twirled a syringe. Surprised by his unexpected presence, I invited him in, reassuring him that there was no need to stand in the doorway. Damon closed the door behind him, effortlessly making his way towards the couch, where he sprawled out and fixed his gaze upon me in a certain, familiar manner. Despite my astonishment, I nestled into his arms, relishing the comfort they provided.

He caressed me gently and whispered, "My darling, I've come to collaborate with you on those explosive ventures. Jeremiah was kind enough to share a few details with me. So, let's relax for now, and later I'll review your plans and determine what adjustments need to be made. Remember, I can always make you handle things calmly."

I concealed my unease. I had quite a snappy sentence in my mind, but I restrained myself and replied, "That works for me, but why now? And can you be trusted? Your alter ego, Damien, desires employment with Sark, so is there a risk?"

Damon grunted and assured me, "Nope, I've managed to isolate it. Damien, Volcano, whatever you want to call it. Heat has helped, and it won't jeopardize anything."

We settled onto the plush couch, unsure of how much time had passed until he whispered in my ear, "Now, darling, let's get to work. Show me your plans and we'll discuss the explosives and who, if anyone, we'll bring along. But first, while you review your plans, I'll fetch some food for you. You're quite thin, so remember to eat."

I stood up and walked to my desk as Damon left the room. He seemed to teleport somewhere, probably to one of our houses, to get proper food for me. Despite him killing me twice, I inexplicably trusted this side of him. Lying in his arms had given me a sense of strength, and maybe we could move forward. If he could keep that part of him under control, perhaps our lives could be near perfect once again. But I didn't dare dream too much.

Damon returned less than 15 minutes later, carrying a large box and a thermobox filled with food. I had already put my plans on the board and spread them out on a bigger table.

Damon closed the door and said, "Alright, darling. I'll let you have a decent meal while I review these plans, and then we can discuss our next steps."

He unloaded the box onto my desk, revealing a plethora of food and four huge smoothies. I started eating while he examined my plans and satellite pictures. His mind worked differently from mine, clear in the way he moved a few papers, wrote something with a pen, and furrowed his brows in thought. He hadn't spoken yet.

I focused on my meal, enjoying the delicious flavors once again. Even though I had no sense of hunger, I could taste just fine, and having this gourmet meal done to me was sheer perfection, and I enjoyed it fully. After finishing, we delved into a conversation about our strategies. He was quite professional too, and I did not know that he had such a vast knowledge of demolitions and detonators and such. 

He questioned my reasoning behind certain choices, grunting as he pondered it from his perspective. Surprisingly, we shared similar views on many aspects, but Damon also had a few brilliant ideas that hadn't crossed my mind. I learned some new things from him. We decided to tackle the mission just the two of us, taking advantage of our vampire speed. 

He examined the sleek new explosives, their metallic sheen catching the light. However, we decided to stick with the familiar ones, not wanting to take any unnecessary risks. Our goal was perfection and speed. Despite this, our vampire speed gave us a distinct advantage. Damon shared my eagerness to destroy the Sark facilities, and I could sense his evil side growing irritated with our cautious plan. He wanted it to witness our success and be powerless to warn Sark.

As we set off the explosions, a rush of exhilaration filled the air. We reveled in the destructive power, with few drawbacks in sight. Though, as the leader, Damon occasionally brandished a flank syringe, a reminder of his authority. Yet, I behaved, not needing its effects. Damon's smug grin accompanied a gentle tap on my cheek, praising me as a good girl. I displayed remarkable self-restraint. We had never worked together for such an extended period; it took 14 weeks to complete our mission.

Damon remained by my side throughout, even assisting others on the base. He ensured I took care of myself, ensuring I ate and used my gear before each mission. Working with him had been a pleasant surprise, making me ponder how wonderful it would have been if he had been part of my organization from the beginning. But fate had other plans. The universe taunted me with these fleeting moments of perfection, knowing they could never be permanent. So, I cherished this time, hoping that in the future, we could experience similar adventures together. 

After our missions were done, Damon told me he had to go, and we might someday do this again, and he told me to behave. We had gotten everything pretty much under control, so I was free to do some other stuff as well. I thanked Damon, told him how perfect this time had been and he was genuinely surprised. He was also very pleased and then he went away. I had no idea where or what. Would there be a soon party or was he just gonna disappear somewhere and maybe someday I would see him again, hoping that he could keep that side still under control?

I went to the New York mansion for a while, ate, and rested a few days, alone as everyone was busy still. Adam and Charles were with Mimosa and Mirella in Montana, doing Bran's work. I would not go in there. Bran was still in my not-so-good books despite the heat. It had been just a heat and it would not erase the nastiness that he had inflicted upon me in the past.

I was considering going to the trauma clinic to work again. It would be a delightful change. So I went. I did 12 weeks at a pretty tough pace, but I kept my fitness. I had now learned to eat regularly, and I had gotten myself my fridge full of food for my office, as I was the head trauma surgeon with her own office.

I did not substitute, but I worked there from time to time and they had gotten me an office so I had a real job for a change I was not just a substitute but an actual surgeon and my schedule was very flexible and I might not work there all the time or in a long time but still. I would get paid when I did work here and my office was always just mine. It was pretty damn cool, and Charles's voice was clearly jealous of this. He swore he would someday work there too and use my office as my husband. 

The mischievous chaos cat perched on the sandy beach, the crashing waves providing a soothing symphony. With an air of certainty, it proclaimed, "This must come to pass. Deep down, you know it."

God nodded in agreement, his thoughts swirling like the salty breeze.

"It feels so inherently wrong for Mimi," he pondered. "I've tried to sprinkle her life with pockets of joy, but ultimately, I will shatter her world. My affinity for one soul perplexes me. Why do I ache when I foresee her future?"

The chaos cat's eyes filled with empathy as it replied, "I too carry this burden, aware that the near future will irrevocably transform her existence. There will be fleeting moments of happiness amidst the suffering, as this is the way it must unfold. Sacrifice is necessary to preserve our world, for our very existence."

The pure white feline god sighed, a soft sound lost in the crashing waves. "I understand," he whispered. "Mimi bears countless responsibilities and duties. How can she endure them all? Being a god is not an enjoyable role at this moment. While I have no qualms about the loss of good people daily, Mimi's fate strikes me deeply."

The chaos cat nodded solemnly, declaring, "We will remain steadfast in her life, no matter the challenges. Our plan must proceed without hesitation. The time is nearly upon us."

The plump, long-haired feline god, as radiant as freshly fallen snow, mumbled to himself, "Once this is over, I'll bring Damon into the fold. He cannot bear this burden alone. I believe I understand his affliction, but I must wait for him to reveal himself fully. One more boundary must be crossed, then he will be unable to retreat into the shadows."

As the chaos kitty strolled away, she murmured to herself, "It is long overdue."