A gunshot ripped through the air.
Daniel's defiant expression instantly twisted into shock and agony the second the shot went off. He crumpled, sliding down the wall until he hit the ground. Within seconds, blood began pooling beneath him.
Damian lowered the gun and glanced down at Daniel, whose face was frozen in disbelief. Then he lifted his foot and kicked him hard, knocking him flat. He stepped forward and pressed the toe of his shoe directly against the bullet wound in Daniel's leg. He ground down twice, a cold smirk curling at the corner of his mouth.
He hadn't aimed for the heart. He'd aimed for the leg.
Daniel's face went pale from the pain. He glared up at Damian, teeth clenched. "You're done, Damian. I'll make sure of it. If you don't kill me tonight, I swear I'll kill you someday."
Damian let out a low laugh at that. He looked completely at ease, that cocky, reckless energy radiating off him like smoke. There was a glint in his eye, sharp and mocking. "I've got all the time in the world to wait, Daniel. The real question is, do you actually have the guts to come after me?"
He straightened up, and as he did, he planted his shoe squarely back on Daniel's leg.
Daniel's face went even whiter. A strangled groan slipped through his teeth, sweat beading across his forehead.
Damian's smile widened. Without a word, he spun the pistol lazily around his index finger, then pulled out a cigarette with his free hand. He lit it, took a slow drag, and blew the first plume of smoke right into Daniel's face.
"I'm not scared of Vincent," he said quietly. "So what makes you think I'd ever be scared of you?"
Daniel didn't answer. He could barely feel his leg anymore beneath the weight of Damian's shoe.
Seeing him stay silent, Damian finally lifted his foot. Then he crouched down, lowering himself until he was eye to eye with Daniel. He flicked his cigarette—ash falling directly onto Daniel's cheek.
Daniel flinched, eyes squeezing shut. The burn of humiliation seared hotter than the wound in his leg.
Damian could feel the hatred radiating off him, but he didn't give a damn. He just kept going. "I heard you messed with Scarlett. That true?"
Daniel's eyes snapped open, bloodshot and blazing. "What the hell do you want?"
Damian's expression went cold. He dropped the cigarette—it landed on Daniel's chest before falling to the wet ground. "I don't want anything. I just want to take my time with you. Play with you until there's nothing left."
He wasn't done. He grabbed a fistful of Daniel's hair and yanked his head back, voice dropping to a low murmur. "You went after the two most important women in my life. Starting today, I'm going to make you understand what regret really feels like."
Then he let go. Daniel's head smacked back against the pavement.
Damian stood up, brushed the rain from his jacket, and tucked the silver pistol back into his waistband.

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