Chapter 92: Stolen Seconds and Shadows
Damon’s POV
Who would have known there was a massive, high-end club hidden right in the center of the commercial district? And that it was owned by Raven’s brother?
I hate places like this. I only go to parties when I’m dragged out by my family or forced by social obligations, so I don’t keep track of the city’s nightlife. But standing here inside this place made my skin crawl.
I followed Raven straight into the building through a private VIP elevator. Honestly, every selfish instinct in my body screamed at me to leave her at the curb and drive away. I had no business getting involved in her family drama. But looking at her in the car earlier, she wasn’t in her right mind. She was hyperventilating, shaking, and almost on the brink of having a panic attack. There was no way in hell I could leave her to stumble in here alone—especially not when my dear, sweet Micah had held my hands, looked into my eyes, and begged me to bring her here safely.
That memory alone made my chest throb with an intense, ridiculous warmth. Micah trusted me. He relied on me. I wasn’t going to fail him.
DING.
The VIP elevator doors slid open with a smooth chime. The moment the gap widened, three heavily armed men in black tactical gear instantly raised their automatic rifles, pointing the barrels straight at my face.
My heart violently slammed against my ribs. Cold sweat instantly broke out across the back of my neck. I froze on the spot, my breath catching in my throat as adrenaline surged through my bloodstream.
"Lower your weapons!" a sharp female voice commanded from down the hall.
The guards immediately relaxed their posture, stepping back as a sleek, sharply dressed woman stepped forward. Her eyes locked onto Raven. "Miss Raven," she called out.
Raven didn’t hesitate for a second. She bolted out of the elevator, panting heavily, her eyes red and tear-stained as she grabbed the woman’s arms. "Sunny has been kidnapped! I need to speak with Phoenix right now!"
The woman’s professional composure cracked for a split second. Her eyes widened in visible shock, her lips pressing into a thin line before she forced her emotionless mask back over her face.
"He is in his office, and he’s currently in the middle of a private..."
Before the woman could even finish her sentence, Raven shoved past her and barged straight down the hallway toward the massive double doors of the main office.
A quiet, frustrated sigh slipped from my lips. With my hands still raised high in the air to avoid getting shot, I slowly stepped out of the elevator. I really didn’t feel like letting one of these motherfuckers put a bullet through my head over a misunderstanding today.
The woman turned around, her sharp gaze sweeping over me. Her brows raised slightly as she studied my face. She raised a hand, waving at the armed guards to stand down entirely.
"You are... Damon Silver," she stated, her tone shifting from guarded to analytical.
A smile spread across my lips, masking the lingering tremor of anxiety in my chest. "I’m glad to know I’m that popular."
I lowered my hands to my sides, rolling my shoulders to relieve the sudden tension.
She stepped closer, her posture completely rigid. "Can you tell me what happened out there? Who took her?"
What happened? Honestly, I didn’t have a damn clue.
"I’m afraid I do not have answers to that," I replied smoothly, keeping my voice cool. "I only came here because my darling Micah asked me to bring Raven here safely."
"Micah?" she repeated instantly.
Her head snapped up. "Oh... I see."
Wait. What the hell was that look?
My mind instantly went on high alert. The moment I mentioned Micah’s name, her eyes flickered with a mixture of recognition and hidden caution. She quickly looked away, forcing her face back into a blank wall as if pretending she hadn’t just reacted to his name.
Jealousy and suspicion flared violently deep inside my gut. Why did this high-end, underground club manager know Micah? Did Micah have something to do with her? Was it just because he was close with Raven, or did he have some secret connection to this club that I knew nothing about? The thought of Micah keeping secrets from me made my chest ache with a sudden, suffocating knot of frustration.
"Thank you for bringing her safely," she said, her voice completely stripped of emotion as she pointed back toward the open elevator doors. "You may leave now, Mr. Silver."
"Ah, wait a second..." I muttered.
I reached into my coat pocket, pulled out Sunny’s cracked smartphone, and stepped closer to slip it directly into her open palm. "Micah also asked me to give you this."
She stared down at the phone in her hand, maintaining her strict professionalism, and gave me a single, firm nod. "Understood."
I didn’t push further. I turned on my heel, stepped back into the elevator, and hit the ground-floor button.
The moment I walked out of the club building and stepped into the cool night air, I let out a massive, heavy breath of relief. Jesus Christ. How suffocating was that place? I didn’t even know who Raven’s brother actually was, but judging by the armed guards, the high-tech security, and the pure luxury of the building, the guy was clearly extraordinarily wealthy and dangerous.
Phoenix?
The name echoed in my mind. I had heard that name mentioned once or twice in passing by some of the high-ranking professors at the university. A shadowy figure with massive influence.
I shook my head aggressively, shoving the thought straight out of my mind. I didn’t give a damn about Raven, her brother, or their dangerous family mess. The only thing I cared about—the only person who mattered—was seeing my Micah.
Suddenly, my phone vibrated violently inside my coat pocket.
A dark curse slipped from my lips as I pulled it out to check the caller ID. The screen illuminated with two words: Old Nanny.
My chest tightened with sudden guilt and irritation. I knew exactly why she was calling. I had sneaked out of the mansion earlier that afternoon without telling anyone where I was going. Worse, I had intentionally skipped my daily medication, leaving the pills sitting untouched on my nightstand. My body was already starting to feel the physical strain—a subtle, nagging ache in my chest and a slight dizziness behind my eyes—but I didn’t care. I didn’t have time to lie in bed playing the sickly heir today.
I pressed the reject button, shoved the phone back into my pocket, and threw my car into drive.
I sped through the city streets, heading straight for the Miller house. My heart hammered against my ribs the entire drive. I needed to see Micah’s face. I needed to hear his voice, to pull him close and feel his warmth against me to quiet the chaotic storm inside my head.
Ten minutes later, I pulled up to the front of the Miller house.
I stepped out of the car and froze. The entire property was drowned in an eerie silence. The street was dead quiet.
I walked toward the front pathway, my eyes sweeping up toward the floor to locate Micah’s bedroom window. But as my eyes adjusted to the dim moonlight, my stomach dropped straight into a cold, terrifying abyss.
The entire exterior of the building was pitch-black, scorched, and ruined. Heavy carbon burns stained the grand stone pillars, and the wooden roof frames were visibly charred to a crisp.
It had caught fire?!