[Lunch Break – Abandoned Gym]
Damien arrived at the location Joseph had given him—a section of the old gym building, long since abandoned and rarely visited by anyone but troublemakers.
It was a classic setup.
Isolated location. No teachers around. No witnesses, except for the people Ace wanted to be there.
The moment Damien stepped inside, he noticed them.
Four.
Ace's core group.
Joseph, still looking pissed from earlier. Liam and the other guy, standing behind him like obedient dogs. And finally—
Ace Matthews himself.
The golden boy was sitting casually on an old bench, elbows resting on his knees, hands clasped together. His expression was unreadable. Not his usual smirk. Not outright anger. Just… watching.
Damien met his gaze without hesitation.
"So," he started lazily, hands in his pockets. "What's this about? Group therapy?"
Joseph scowled. "Watch your mouth, asshole."
Ace lifted a hand slightly, and Joseph immediately shut up.
Damien raised an eyebrow. Huh. He had known Ace had control over his guys, but this? That was instant obedience.
Ace leaned back slightly, exhaling. "You've been causing a lot of noise lately, Damien."
Damien smirked. "Nah. You're just not used to people making noise back."
A few of the guys stiffened at that, but Ace? He just chuckled.
"Clever." He nodded. "I can see why Elena's taken an interest in you."
Damien's smirk faltered slightly.
Ace caught it.
"Oh? Did that get your attention?" His smile returned, but there was something sharp underneath it. "She's quite the girl, isn't she?"
Damien didn't respond.
Because this—this was the real reason he was here.
Ace wasn't just pissed about the public humiliation. That was secondary.
This was about Elena.
Ace continued, tilting his head slightly. "You see, Damien, there's something you don't seem to understand. There's a balance in this school. Everyone knows their place. And Elena? She was supposed to be mine."
There it was. The real truth, slipping through the cracks in Ace's calm exterior.
Damien sighed dramatically. "Oh no, the rich boy didn't get his favorite toy. Tragic."
Joseph and the others moved instantly, stepping forward, but Ace lifted a hand again, stopping them.
His gaze didn't leave Damien's.
Silence stretched between them.
Then—Ace chuckled again, shaking his head.
"You're bold," he admitted. "I respect that. But you need to understand something, Damien."
He stood up slowly, taking a step forward.
"This isn't about Elena making a choice. This is about you not having one."
The air shifted.
Joseph grinned darkly. Liam cracked his knuckles.
Damien sighed.
"I already told her to stay away from me, you don't have to worry about me 'stealing your' girl away," Damien said as he turned back to leave with his hands tucked in his pockets.
But Ace wasn't done.
"You think that matters?" Ace's voice was calm, almost amused, but there was an undercurrent of something more dangerous beneath it. "She's already chosen to stand by you. That's the problem."
Damien paused for a fraction of a second before continuing toward the exit.
Ace exhaled sharply, shaking his head. "You don't get it, do you? This isn't just about some high school crush, Damien. It's about knowing your place."
That did it.
Damien stopped walking.
A tense silence stretched between them.
Then, with a slow, deliberate motion, Damien turned his head just enough to glance back over his shoulder. His usual lazy smirk was gone.
Ace noticed. His eyes narrowed slightly.
Damien's voice was quiet, but it carried through the empty gym like a razor.
"My place, huh?"
Ace didn't respond immediately, but his expression shifted—just a little. That was enough.
Damien chuckled, a low, almost amused sound. "You know… the last time someone told me to know my place, they ended up dying."
Joseph scoffed as his hand moved toward Damien's collar. "Tch. You seriously think you—"
SMACK!!!
THUD! THUD! THUD!
One moment Joseph was standing and the next he flew backwards, crashing into a pile of old gym mats. The sound echoed in the empty space, followed by a stunned silence.
Liam and the other guy tensed, their instincts screaming at them to react, but something about the way Damien stood—calm, hands still lazily tucked into his pockets—made them hesitate.
Ace, however, remained perfectly still. His blue-grey eyes studied Damien with newfound curiosity, his expression unreadable.
Joseph groaned, pushing himself up with a furious glare. "You son of a—"
"Stay down," Damien cut in, his voice as indifferent as ever. "You're embarrassing yourself."
Joseph clenched his teeth, looking toward Ace for approval, but Ace didn't even glance at him. His focus was entirely on Damien.
A slow smirk finally returned to Ace's lips. "Now that," he murmured, "was interesting."
Damien exhaled through his nose, rolling his shoulders slightly. "Are we done here?"
Ace chuckled. "For now."
That wasn't a yes, but Damien took it for what it was—an acknowledgement. This wasn't over. Ace was just reassessing his approach.
Damien turned without another word and walked out, his footsteps echoing through the abandoned gym.
As he stepped into the sunlight, he let out a slow breath.
This had just become a lot more annoying.
...
A whole month goes by, but nobody makes the move... or so Damien thought as he looked at Elena lying unconscious while blood pooled on the ground beneath her.
His pulse spiked.
For the first time in a long while, something cold and sharp twisted in his gut.
"Elena?" His voice was low, dangerously steady, even as he moved toward her.
No response.
Her breathing was shallow. Too shallow.
Damien crouched beside her, his hands hovering over her body for a moment before he touched her wrist, searching for a pulse. It was there—weak, but there.
Then he saw it.
The gash along her side, the deep crimson staining her dress, soaking into the pavement.
His jaw clenched.
She needed help. Fast.
But as he reached to lift her, a voice stopped him.
"That's quite the look on your face, Damien."
He didn't need to turn to know who it was.
Ace.
Standing a few feet away, hands in his pockets, the same calm expression on his face.
Behind him, Liam and Joseph, their usual arrogance replaced with something darker.
But it was Ace who mattered.
Damien met his gaze, his eyes like burning steel. "You did this?"
Ace tilted his head slightly. "Not personally."
That was all he needed to hear.
Damien's grip tightened around Elena for a fraction of a second before he gently laid her back down.
Then he stood.
And when he did—
Something shifted.
The air between them went still, heavy with something raw, something violent.
Ace noticed it immediately. His smirk faded just a little.
"You should really think before you do something stupid, Damien," Ace continued, voice smooth. "You don't want to make this worse than it already is."
Damien exhaled slowly. Then he smiled.
It wasn't his usual lazy smirk.
No.
This smile was different.
This was the kind of smile people should be afraid of.
"You don't get it, do you?" Damien murmured, taking a slow step forward.
Liam instinctively took a step back. Even Joseph hesitated.
But Ace held his ground.
"Get what?" Ace asked, watching him carefully.
Damien's eyes gleamed.
"You just made this personal."
And then—
He moved.
THWACK!
The next thing Liam knew, his vision blurred as a brutal roundhouse kick slammed into his ribs, sending him skidding across the pavement. He barely had time to groan before Damien was already on Joseph.
BAM!
A vicious knee to the gut. Joseph doubled over, choking on his breath—only for Damien's elbow to crash down on the back of his head, crumpling him to the ground.
Fast. Efficient. No wasted movements.
Ace's smirk vanished.
Damien turned his gaze to him now, rolling his shoulders as if this was nothing more than a warm-up. "You were saying?"
Ace exhaled slowly, studying him. "You're good."
Damien cracked his knuckles. "I know."
A tense beat of silence stretched between them.
Then—Ace sighed. "Guess I'll have to handle this myself."
He moved.
And Damien grinned.
Ace was fast.
But Damien was faster.
The moment Ace shifted his stance, Damien already knew what was coming. Years in the ring, countless fights—he had seen it all before. The slight shift in weight, the subtle tension in his shoulders. Ace was going for a textbook lead jab into a right cross.
Predictable.
The second Ace launched forward, Damien moved.
Pivot. Slip. Counter.
Ace's fist barely grazed the air where Damien's head had been a split second ago.
And then—
THWACK!!!
A devastating spinning back kick slammed into Ace's solar plexus.
The impact was brutal.
Ace's body folded as all the air in his lungs was ripped out in an instant. His feet left the ground as he was launched backward, crashing into the pavement with a sickening THUD!
Silence.
Liam and Joseph, still groaning on the ground, stared in shock.
Damien didn't even break a sweat.
He rolled his shoulders, exhaling. "That's it?"
Ace coughed, struggling to push himself up, his body trembling from the sheer force of the hit. His breath came in ragged gasps, his once-pristine composure shattered.
Damien took a slow step forward, his shadow falling over Ace.
Ace looked up, his usual smirk gone.
For the first time—
He looked afraid.
Damien crouched down, resting his forearm on his knee, his voice low, calm—dangerous.
"I'm done playing games."
Ace didn't answer. He was still too winded to speak.
Damien's gaze flickered toward Elena, still unconscious on the ground. His fingers twitched. His blood boiled. His mind screamed at him to keep going, to make Ace pay.
But not here.
Not now.
Instead, he stood up, looking down at Ace one last time.
"I'm not some scared kid you can intimidate," Damien said quietly. "I don't care who your family is. I don't care what you think you own. You crossed a line today."
Ace's breathing was still laboured, his eyes dark with something unspoken.
Damien tilted his head slightly. "And trust me—next time?"
His voice dropped lower.
"I won't stop."
With that, Damien turned his back on him.
And walked away with Elena in arms.
...
[Hospital – Night]
The waiting room was quiet, save for the occasional beeping of machines and the hushed conversations of nurses passing by. The scent of antiseptic lingered in the air, but Damien barely noticed.
He sat there, elbows on his knees, hands clasped together.
Waiting.
Thinking.
His shirt was still stained with Elena's blood.
Her parents had arrived an hour ago. They had rushed in, frantic, demanding answers. He had given them what little he could—told them he found her, told them she was hurt, but alive.
The doctors had stabilized her. She had lost a lot of blood, but she was going to make it.
The door to the waiting room creaked open.
He didn't look up at first.
Until he heard the voice.
"Who are you, young man?"
Damien's eyes lifted, locking onto the person standing in front of him.
Elena's father stood tall, his presence commanding even in the sterile hospital lighting. His dark eyes bore into Damien with a mixture of suspicion and something else—something calculating.
Damien met his gaze without hesitation. "Damien," he said simply.
Elena's father studied him for a long moment before stepping closer. His sharp features were carved with concern, but his expression was unreadable. "You were the one who brought my daughter here."
Damien nodded. "Yeah."
Another pause.
Then—"Who did this to her?"
Damien's fingers curled slightly, the knuckles of his hands tightening. He could still see her lying there, blood pooling beneath her, the weak rise and fall of her chest. The memory clawed at him, burned behind his eyes.
He didn't answer immediately.
Because if he did—if he let it slip now—he wouldn't be able to stop himself.
Elena's father didn't seem to like that silence. His tone sharpened. "I asked you a question."
Damien exhaled slowly, forcing his voice to stay even. "You'll find out soon enough."
Elena's father narrowed his eyes. "That's not good enough."
Damien's jaw tensed. "I know."
The air between them grew heavier.
Before her father could press further, the door to the hospital room creaked open.
Both of them turned.
Elena's mother stepped out, eyes red-rimmed but filled with relief. "She's awake."
Damien's breath hitched.
Elena's father glanced at him once more before turning toward his wife. "Let's go see her."
They stepped inside.
Damien remained in place, staring at the door.
He should leave.
He should.
But after everything—after the blood, the fight, the weight of it all—he couldn't bring himself to walk away.
Not yet.
So, he waited.