Chapter 10
926words
One press of the elevator button and I'd be free.
I could flee to Paris, to London—anywhere Damon wasn't.
I approached the elevator.
My finger hovered over the button.
One second.
Two seconds.
Three seconds.
I didn't press it.
I leaned against the cold wall, sliding slowly to the floor.
A crushing emptiness washed over me like a tidal wave.
With my hatred burned away, who was I now?
Was I Elena, already dead to the world? Or Vera, who never truly existed?
I absently touched the ring beneath my collarbone.
It still throbbed.
Somehow, this pain had become the only thing that felt real.
"You're pathetic, Elena."
I smiled bitterly at myself, eyes burning.
"You can't even bring yourself to leave? What are you hoping for?"
"Expecting the man who made you eat mud to come chasing after you?"
"Just go."
I took a deep breath and reached again for the button.
Just as my finger was about to make contact—
"BANG!"
The study door flew open with explosive force.
The scent of blood and cedar cologne hit me like a storm.
Damon burst into the hallway.
He wasn't even wearing shoes, his bare feet pounding the carpet like a desperate animal lunging for salvation.
"Caught you."
A burning hand clamped around my wrist.
I stumbled as he dragged me back into the study.
The door slammed shut.
And I was trapped again.
"You..."
I started to curse, but then saw him pointing to the computer screen.
The screen showed hallway security footage.
Every moment—from my exit to my collapse against the wall—captured in high-definition clarity.
"Three minutes."
He panted. "You stood at that elevator for exactly three minutes."
"Elena, what were you waiting for?"
My face burned with embarrassment.
"I... I was booking a flight on my phone!"
"Liar!"
Damon ruthlessly called my bluff. "You never even touched your phone!"
He moved closer until our noses nearly touched, our breaths mingling.
"You still have feelings for me, don't you? Even if it's just hatred—you can't bring yourself to leave."
"Let go!" I shoved him hard. "This has nothing to do with you! I'm leaving now!"
"You can't leave anymore."
Damon captured my restless hands, pinning them against the door.
"Since you couldn't leave in those three minutes, you've lost your chance to escape."
He stared at me, voice resolute.
"I have two proposals. You must choose one."
"First option: you run. But I swear, wherever you flee—Paris, London, even Antarctica—I'll hunt you down. I'll catch you and keep you by my side until you love me again."
"You're insane!" I glared at him. "If you're sick, get help!"
"You're right."
He nodded.
"After your 'death,' I was diagnosed with severe PTSD and clinical depression."
Damon released one of my hands and pulled out his phone.
It showed an appointment screen.
"So, second option: accompany me to see Dr. Carter tomorrow morning at nine."
I blinked. "Who?"
"The best trauma therapist in New York. Specializes in PTSD and rebuilding damaged relationships."
Damon's gaze held mine, unwavering.
"I'm sick, Elena. And you..."
His fingertip traced my cheek gently.
"Elena, you're sick too."
"I'm not! I'm perfectly fine!" I protested, incredulous.
"A healthy person doesn't spend three months stalking their ex, enjoying his torment while secretly softening when he's in pain."
Damon stood before me, absolute conviction in his voice.
"Look at us, Elena."
"You're a vengeful ghost who crawled from the flames, and I'm a madman obsessed with ashes."
"We're both monsters created by that fire. So let's stop hurting others."
He pressed his forehead against mine, his voice rough and intimate.
"Let's heal together. When we're better, we'll start fresh."
"And if we can't be fixed, we'll at least be broken together."
"I told you, I'm not sick!" I insisted desperately.
"Then come with me anyway. Heal the hole in your heart, and maybe save me in the process."
I glared at this infuriating, damaged, obsessive man.
"What makes you think I'd go?"
"Because you hesitated at that door."
After saying this, his voice softened slightly:
"The sooner we start treatment, the better our chances. I still want forever with you."
He was sick, truly sick!
I didn't answer, just yanked my hand free.
"Tomorrow morning at 8:30, I'll pick you up?"
I started to speak, then stopped myself. "I have a car."
I tossed the words coldly, then yanked open the door.
This time, Damon let me go.
But I felt his gaze burning into my back, hot enough to leave marks.
"Don't be late, Miss Ross."
He called after me, relief and something like hope in his voice.
"Dr. Carter's appointments are hard to come by."
……
I fled to the elevator and even once in my car, my heart still raced uncontrollably.
The rain had stopped.
The night was deep.
I started the engine, hands trembling slightly on the wheel.
I glanced at the dashboard clock.
If I drove to Kennedy now, I could still catch the last flight out.
One press of the accelerator and I could escape this place forever, leave that madman behind.
But...
I touched the ring above my heart, which burned like fire against my skin.
If I vanished now, would that lunatic really tear New York apart searching for me by nine tomorrow?
Picturing that scene, I couldn't help the reluctant smile that tugged at my lips.
The headlights flared to life, cutting through the darkness.
I pressed the accelerator, and the car surged into the night.
