I turn my gaze to my father once again. “Daddy, you’re not listening to me. I love him. My life is with Damien now. I will not get an annulment, and I haven’t come back home. I’m here to collect some of my things, and I’m going back to our home.” I tell him boldly, and I move closer to Damien, who laces our fingers together and squeezes gently. I look up at him. “With my husband.”
“The hell you are!” My father barks. “You’re not leaving this house, Ezra.” I blanch when I see three of my Fathers security detail coming in behind him with guns. “Escort the boy out of here.” Oh shit.
“No!” I’m ripped away from Damien, and I fight against my father. “Daddy, no, no, please! Don’t do this, let me go!” The security guards come up pointing guns at Damien, who holds his hands up in surrender. Those molten eyes sneak a look at me, and I see that deadly glint in his eyes. I shake my head, silently begging him not to hurt my family.
It all went downhill when one of the guards put his hand on Damien.
I heard his wrist crack audibly before Damien headbutts him, and he wails.
“Kill him!” My father orders the two other guards.
“No!” I scream, fighting in my father's hold. “Stop, please!”
One of the guards fires a shot at Damien, who uses the other guard's body as a shield against the guns fired in his direction. The guard… whose name I believe was Antonio went flying toward the other two when Damien kicked him in the back.
I watch as Damien slid along the marble floor skillfully, shooting one of the other guards in the shoulder and the other in the leg. He swiftly got back up to his feet, wraps his arm around the second guard's neck, and smashes his head against my mother’s marble table, and he drops unconscious. The third guard catches Damien by surprise and punches him. Damien didn’t even flinch at the blow. Instead, he kicks him fast and hard on the knee, and he screams out before falling to the ground, Damien holds his head and knees him in the face violently before he delivers a swift punch to his throat, and he went down quicker than anything I have ever seen in my life.
“Oh, dios mio…” I hear my mother praying in Spanish, and my father just stares at his security detail out cold on the marble floor of our living room.
I shake free from his grip and run over to Damien, who wraps his arm around my waist and pulls me up against him protectively. “You’re bleeding,” I whisper, touching his face, and he looks at me and presses a kiss to my forehead.
“I’m fine, baby,” My heart swells when he calls me that, even if it’s just a show for my parents. Damien’s gaze hardens when it zeros in on my father again. “I sincerely hope there is no qualm left in your mind that I can and will protect your daughter with my life. Excuse us. Mrs. Quintero.” He declares gravely and nods curtly at my mother before he turns and leads us toward the front door.
“Stop.” We halt and look back at my Father, who sighs, eyes still doubtful but even more curious to find out who this mysterious man is that married his daughter. “I don’t know who you are, kid, but you’ve proven that you have what it takes to keep my daughter safe. I still don’t like you, but it’s clear my daughter trusts and cares for you, and I see that you care a great deal for her as well—enough to take on a fight without batting an eye. I think you can agree that the safest place for my daughter is here with her family.”
“Father—” I try to interject, and he looks at me and shakes his head, informing me to keep quiet. Something he did a lot growing up.
“With all due respect Mr. Quintero, I’m not going anywhere without my wife,” Damien responds, and my Father nods in response, taking a step toward us.
“Then you’ll both stay… here with us.” He begrudgingly offers his hand out to Damien, who stares at it for a long moment.
There was a look in his eyes that I couldn’t quite place, it came from a place real dark, darker than I’ve ever seen, and it made every hair on the back of my neck stand, but much to my surprise, he eventually shakes his hand. “Very well. You’ll stay in the guest house. You’ll be comfortable in there.” And with that, my Father turns and walks away, stepping over his security guards on the floor. “When they wake up, tell them they are fired and to take their dead friend with them.” He mutters to no one in particular as he disappears into his study.
I look over at my mother, who nods and eyes Damien warily before she smiles at me, ignoring the dead guard lying in the middle of her living room.
“You have chosen a warrior for yourself, mi hija.” I feel my cheeks heat up at her words, and I peek up at Damien, who looked every bit uncomfortable as I was feeling. “Why don’t you get your husband cleaned up while I have them prepare the guest house for you.” I nod, and she presses a kiss to my temple and walks off, leaving us alone.
I turn my gaze up to Damien, he had a cut above his brow, and it was bleeding, but his gaze was still fixed in the direction my Father had gone. I reach up and brush my fingers along his jaw, and he jolts out of whatever he was thinking about and looks at me.
“Are you all right?” I whisper, and he nods wordlessly. “Come on,” I take his hand and lead him up the grand staircase toward my bedroom. Damien looks around the hallway, pictures of me as a baby, a little girl, my teenage years, my graduation a couple of months ago all hung up on the wall. He suddenly stops walking and stares at a photo of me.
I follow his gaze and frown. It’s a photo of me on my eighth birthday. I sat at a table with my princess cake with family and friends gathered around me, smiling happily. “Damien, what’s wrong?”