Lena's POV
"You need to stop looking at me like that."
Damien's voice was low, rough, yet it managed to cut through the storm of thoughts raging in my head. I hadn't realized how intensely I'd been staring at him until he spoke.
"Like what?" I asked, my voice sharper than I intended.
"Like I'm a monster."
I flinched. Not because of the accusation, but because of how close it hit to the truth.
"You tore those wolves apart, Damien," I said, forcing myself to meet his gaze. "You didn't just fight them—you enjoyed it."
His jaw tightened, the muscle ticking beneath his skin. "You don't understand."
"Then make me understand."
He turned away from me, pacing across the room like a caged animal. His movements were restless, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides.
"Damien," I pressed, stepping closer. "You can't just leave me in the dark. After everything I've seen—after everything I've been through—I deserve answers."
He stopped abruptly, his back to me. For a moment, I thought he wasn't going to say anything. But then he spoke, his voice quiet and laced with something I couldn't quite name.
"My family is cursed."
The words hung in the air, heavy and foreboding.
"Cursed?" I echoed, disbelief coloring my tone.
He turned to face me, his silver eyes burning with an intensity that made my stomach twist. "The savagery you saw tonight—it wasn't just instinct or adrenaline. It's... deeper than that. Darker."
I crossed my arms, trying to steady myself. "What kind of curse are we talking about here?"
Damien took a slow, measured breath, as if steeling himself. "Centuries ago, one of my ancestors made a deal with a witch. Power in exchange for loyalty. But the deal went wrong. Instead of granting him strength, she tied his power to his rage, turning him—and every descendant after him—into something uncontrollable. A beast."
My mind reeled, struggling to process what he was saying. "So, every time you fight... every time you get angry..."
"The curse takes over," he finished grimly. "I lose myself. The wolf takes control, and the line between man and beast disappears."
I sank onto the edge of the bed, my legs suddenly too weak to hold me. "And you just live with this? Knowing that you could... what? Lose control and hurt someone?"
His silence was answer enough.
I looked up at him, my chest tightening with a mix of fear and something else I couldn't quite name. "Is that why Victor called you 'damaged'? Because of the curse?"
Damien's expression darkened. "Victor likes to twist the truth for his own gain. But yes, the curse has made me... different. Weaker, in his eyes. Unfit to lead."
"That's insane," I said, my voice barely above a whisper. "You're one of the strongest people I've ever met."
His lips quirked into a humorless smile. "Strength doesn't mean much when it's tainted by something you can't control."
We sat in silence for a moment, the weight of his confession settling between us.
Finally, I broke the silence. "Why didn't you tell me this before?"
He hesitated, his gaze flicking away from mine. "Because I didn't want you to look at me the way you did tonight."
Something in his tone cracked my resolve. I stood and crossed the room, stopping just a few feet away from him. "Damien... I was scared, yes. But not of you. I was scared of what I don't understand. And I still don't fully understand, but I know one thing—you're not a monster."
His eyes softened, the storm in them calming just slightly. "You're braver than you should be."
"Or dumber," I countered, attempting a weak smile.
He actually laughed, the sound surprising us both. But the moment of levity was short-lived.
"There's more," he said, his voice dropping. "About you."
I frowned. "What do you mean?"
Damien gestured toward the desk in the corner of the room, where his family's crest was etched into the wood. "That mark—the one Victor mentioned. It's not just random. It's tied to something bigger. Something ancient."
I followed his gaze to the crest, my pulse quickening. The intricate design looked vaguely familiar, though I couldn't place why.
"Why are you telling me this now?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.
"Because," he said, stepping closer, "I think you might be connected to it."
I blinked, the air seeming to grow thicker around us. "Connected how?"
Before he could answer, a sudden sharp pain shot through my shoulder, making me cry out.
"Lena!" Damien was at my side in an instant, his hands steadying me as I clutched at the source of the pain.
"It's burning," I gasped, pulling my sleeve down to reveal my skin.
And there it was.
A mark.
The same mark as the crest.
"What the hell?" I whispered, staring at the symbol etched into my skin as if it had always been there, waiting to be revealed.
Damien's expression was unreadable, but his grip on me tightened. "This isn't possible," he murmured, more to himself than to me.
"What does it mean?" I demanded, my voice shaking.
"It means," he said slowly, his eyes meeting mine, "that you're more than you think you are."
Before I could press him further, the door burst open, and one of Damien's pack members rushed in.
"Alpha," the man said, his voice urgent. "We've got a problem. Victor's wolves are on the move again."
Damien's jaw tightened, and he straightened to his full height, the commanding presence of the Alpha taking over.
"Stay here," he ordered me, his tone brooking no argument.
"Damien—"
"Stay," he repeated, his eyes locking onto mine with an intensity that left no room for defiance.
And then he was gone, leaving me alone with the weight of his revelations and the burning mark on my shoulder.
I turned back to the crest on the desk, my heart pounding. There was no denying it now. Whatever this mark meant, it was tied to Damien. To his curse. To everything I didn't yet understand.
But one thing was clear: my life was no longer my own.
And I had a feeling it never would be again.