Chapter 67: The Price of Devotion
Micah’s POV
The long, agonizing taxi ride finally came to an end, the tires screeching softly against the gravel as the cab pulled up outside the towering perimeter of the Silver estate. My hands were shaking so violently I could barely manage to shove a few crumpled bills into the driver’s hand before tumbling out of the backseat.
I stood on the pavement, my eyes locked onto the intimidating stone mansion in the distance.
A suffocating, heavy weight settled over my chest, squeezing my lungs until every breath felt like inhaling shattered glass. How was Damon faring right now? Was he lying inside, unconscious and bleeding? Was his life in actual danger because of what my monster of a brother had done to him yesterday?
A wave of pure terror washed over me, making my stomach turn. If Damon’s father... a man known for his ruthless authority and lethal reputation found out that Noah was the one responsible for brutalizing his son, what would happen? Would he retaliate? Would an all-out, bloody war break out between our families?
My head throbbed with a sickening, dizzying pulse. I tried desperately to shake the horrifying thoughts out of my mind, digging my nails into my palms to anchor myself to reality. I couldn’t think about the politics or the danger right now. I just needed to see Damon. I needed to know he was breathing.
I forced my weak, trembling legs forward, climbing the cold stone steps that led to the grand front entrance. My throat was so dry I couldn’t even swallow as I raised a shaking fist and knocked on the heavy wooden door.
To my complete surprise, the door clicked open almost immediately, as if someone had been standing right on the other side waiting for me.
My heart shot straight into my throat, but the panic evaporated into a wave of quiet shock when I saw who opened it. Standing in the entryway was the twins’ old nanny. She wore a soft, comfortable apron, her wrinkled face breaking into a warm, gentle smile the second her eyes landed on me.
"Oh, Micah dear," she said, her voice filled with a motherly sweetness that made a lump form in my throat.
"G-Good day, ma’am," I stammered, quickly hiding my shaking hands behind my back as I offered her a nervous, awkward bow.
My pulse was hammering against my ribs like a trapped bird. How was I supposed to phrase this? How could I explain to this sweet old woman that I had practically run away from school, abandoned my terrifying brother at the ice rink, and rushed across town just to sneak into her master’s bedroom? How do I tell her that I was here to—
"Are you here for the young master?" she asked softly, cutting through my spiraling panic before I could make an absolute fool of myself.
The question hung in the air, but it made my stomach do a violent flip. I didn’t trust my voice to answer without crying, so I just nodded... nodding so fast and hard that my neck made a tiny pop.
The nanny let out a quiet, reassuring chuckle and stepped to the side, widening the massive front door. "Come in, child."
I stepped over the threshold, and the heavy door shut quietly behind me, cutting off the chilling outdoor wind.
"You know where to find his room, don’t you?" she asked warmly, smoothing down the front of her apron.
I gave another quiet nod, unable to force words past the tight lump in my throat.
She offered me one last sweet smile, then turned around and walked down the wide hallway to resume whatever household chores I had interrupted with my knocking.
I stood frozen in the grand foyer for a moment, my eyes wide as I stared after her retreating back. A strange, hollow sensation bloomed in the center of my chest. How could they just let a stranger like me wander freely through a mansion like this? Was it really just because I was close to Damon?
Close to Damon.
The words echoed mockingly inside my head, sending a sharp, painful ache straight through my heart. What was I to him, really? Was I actually someone special to him, or was I just nothing more than his pathetic, complicated friend?
Hold on... are we even friends?
A wave of bitter guilt washed over me. Just yesterday, I had promised myself that I would never see Damon Silver again. I had sworn to cut him out of my life completely so that Noah wouldn’t tear him apart. I had made a silent vow to protect him by staying away. And yet, here I was. Less than twenty-four hours later, standing inside his home, breaking my own promise the very second I heard he was sick.
Not only would Noah see Damon as an intolerable threat to his control, but I couldn’t even begin to comprehend what he would do to me when I went home tonight. He was going to destroy me. He was going to punish me.
A sharp gasp escaped my lips as a wave of nausea hit me. I tightly pressed my eyes shut, placing a palm against my chest, trying desperately to purge Noah’s terrifying, icy face from my mind. I couldn’t let Noah control my head right now. I couldn’t let fear paralyze me when Damon was hurt just upstairs. I needed to find him.
Opening my eyes, I took a deep, shuddering breath and rushed up the grand marble staircase.
My heart pounded hard against my ribs as I hurried down the dimly lit second-floor hallway. My eyes swept over the massive oak doors until I spotted his room at the very end of the corridor. The door was slightly ajar, a warm, faint light spilling out onto the polished floorboards.
I reached the door and pushed it wider, my hand trembling as I stepped quietly into the heavy silence of his bedroom.
The air inside was warm, smelling faintly of expensive cologne, cedarwood, and a sharp, medical antiseptic. My breath seized in my throat, and every muscle in my body went completely rigid as my eyes landed on the massive king-sized bed in the center of the room.
Damon was lying there.
He was stark asleep, his broad, muscular chest bare, exposed to the dim light. Wrapped tightly around his midsection—covering his entire waist and lower ribs—was a thick, snow-white medical bandage.
Fuck.
My vision blurred instantly as hot, stinging tears pooled in my eyes. He really was hurt. He was trapped in bed, wrapped in bandages, unable to move, all because of Noah. All because my fucking psycho brother had brought his full weight down on Damon’s chest. Damon had taken that brutal damage, and now he was suffering alone in the dark.
A wave of raw, agonizing grief burst open in my chest, making my throat tighten until I could barely breathe. The guilt was suffocating, clawing at my throat like a wild animal.
I moved forward with silent, hesitant steps, my knees feeling so weak I thought I might collapse onto the rug. I reached the side of his bed and looked down at his face.
"Damon..." I muttered his name in a broken, raspy whisper that barely carried across the quiet room.
Impulsively, driven by a desperate need to feel his warmth, I reached out my pale hand and laced my fingers with his. His hand was so much larger than mine. The moment my trembling skin touched his, Damon’s fingers twitched slightly against mine, though his eyes remained tightly closed.