Enthrall Me (𝑹𝒆𝒗𝒂𝒎𝒑𝒆𝒅) [ON HOLD]

Chapter 66 | Confession?

"W- what??" I stutter, goggling at him.

Just as I'm about to question his speech, Liam suddenly appears from somewhere.

He makes a brief eye contact with me, seeming surprised, as though he is wondering what I'm even doing here beside his boss, before turning over to Damon and analyzing his wound.

"Shit, what happened to you?" Liam creases his brows uncomprehendingly, then glances sideways in alert. "Where is the shooter?"

"He got away, but his leg was wounded." Damon replies, swinging the gun holding hand towards the direction of the shooter.

"You find that motherfucker for me." He growls. "And take him back to the base."

He glances down at me, then back at Liam again, his chest rising and falling steadily, still visibly exhausted and tense from earlier. "I will take the car and drive Rosalie home. You call for reinforcement to aid with the hunt."

"On it." Liam nods, then quickly gets out his own gun and runs ahead.

"Follow me, Rosalie." Damon turns and starts nudging me. The cold barrel of his gun gently tapping against my lower back sends a shiver down my spine, a reminder of the danger still raw.

"Damon..." I pout and gaze up at his eyes, there's a slight pause as if I want to say something, but then I stay silent as I give myself more time to process what is happening.

Exhaling, I obey and immediately walk closely beside him, frequently checking on the state of his wound, which is being pressed against by his other free hand, my worry growing with every passing second.

Damon guides us out of our hiding spot to where he parked his car, the time is late, so gladly nobody is here to witness what's going on.

He gets in the driver's seat while I slide in beside him.

"Y- you're driving like this?" I watch him with narrowed eyes as he puts the gun away to ignite the engine.

"Do you know how to drive?" He asks, deftly maneuvering the car out of the parking lot with a few smooth turns of the steering wheel, using just one hand.

I pause at his question, the words stuck in my throat as I wonder how to reply, wishing I could help, but I don't trust in my ability.

"N- no..." I murmur, narrowing my eyes in shyness and embarrassment.

"Y- you can't have Liam drive you?" I continue, discussing other alternatives. "I just... I don't want you to stress yourself too much..."

"He has to capture the shooter, Rosalie." He explains, slowly turning his head to look at me.

His eyes linger on mine for a second or two before he puts on a relaxed smile that is way too laid-back in such a serious situation like this. "And I'm fine. I can manage this, don't worry too much."

"How can I not worry, Damon?" I pout, shifting uncomfortably on my seat. "You're bleeding..."

"M- maybe you should go to the hospital." I urge.

"No, I can take care of it at my place." He grits his teeth, releasing his grip on the wound to clamp his bloody hand onto the steering wheel, streaking dark red across the smooth, expensive leather.

His other hand dives into the inner pocket of his suit jacket, fumbling to retrieve something as he keeps the car steady, his movements tense and hurried.

"What? Why?" I widen my eyes, confused and concerned. "How can you do that?"

"I have medical supplies and everything there." He gets out his phone, quickly navigating through the screen while occasionally glancing up at the road.

I just stay silent as I observe him, seeing him open his messaging app and texting someone. He puts away his phone right after hitting send, then briefly inspects the blood soaked part of his shirt.

"This doesn't seem that bad." He comments, flickering his eyes up to focus on the road again, now using both hands to drive.

"Are you sure? It's just..." I take a deep breath, my heart still beating fast. "It's a lot of blood..."

"Seems like it." He breathes.

What-

I pause and just stare at him.

"Are you serious right now? Go to the freaking hospital!" I yell at him, throwing my hands up in frustration, deeply rooted in fear.

"I can't, Rosalie." He exhales, his features growing a bit weary. I'm not sure whether it's because of the blood loss or I'm annoying.

"People like me don't go to the hospital to get treated for a gunshot wound." He elaborates calmly. "It raises questions and complications."

"Oh..." I pause, realizing the difficulty that comes with his identity.

"I'm just worried..." I murmur after a moment, frowning at him.

"I know..." He sighs.

"I- is there anything I can do to help?" I give him an intent look.

He doesn't say anything for a bit, as if planning his words, or just focusing on driving us.

"Just stay here with me, love..." He finally replies, his voice soft and soothing.

I feel heat immediately flood my chest at his words. It's not just what he said, but how he said it, along with that addressing that always makes me weak in the knees.

"Damon..." I take a deep, shaky breath, suddenly finding myself heavy with emotions.

I shift on my seat to get closer to him, leaning over to rest my head on his shoulder.

I don't know what I'm even doing right now.

I can't even think.

Only feel... And let myself drift...

"A- are you playing with my feelings..." I ask quietly, closing my eyes tightly, hearing my own heartbeat as I try to calm my growing urge to break down.

I can hear and feel his deep intake of breath, his shoulder rising and falling slowly.

"No." He responds, his deep voice rumbling against my ear, sending a light vibration through my body.

I feel his hot breath in my hair, then a light pressure at the top of my head.

The realization only makes me more susceptible to crumble.

He just kissed my forehead.

"S- stop it, you're confusing me..." I slowly open my eyes again, seeing the smooth travelling of the car on the empty road, though now through the lens of blurred and transparent orbs—the reflections of my own tears.

"I'm sorry, love..." He murmurs, and I can feel his hot breath still in my hair, his head seemingly titled towards mine.

I have a million thoughts arbitrarily firing in my head, too many that I feel like I have a lot to say, yet unable to come up with anything.

My body is overwhelmed not only by the questions, but also by the effort put in to not cry.

"Damon..." I whisper his name, my voice a little strained.