Vengeance in His Bed novel Chapter 59

Chapter 59: The Curse of the Unchosen

The dust from Dorrent Grefo’s screeching tires had barely settled into the cracked pavement of 3rd Street when the low hum of more engines filled the dark alleyway.

Damian Boren stood completely still outside Jannah’s locked, warped wooden door. He hadn’t even picked up his coat from the bench where she had left it. His sharp eyes tracked the empty space where the billionaire’s luxury transport had just been, his jaw clenching tightly as the lingering scent of winter-frost dissipated into the slum smog.

Suddenly, three massive, armored black vehicles rounded the corner of the narrow ghetto lane, their high-beam headlights blindingly cutting through the midnight dark. They swerved and pinned Damian into a tight perimeter, blocking every single escape route from the alleyway.

The doors of the vehicles flew open simultaneously. A dozen towering bodyguards, all dressed in tactical black gear with automatic weapons strapped to their chests, spilled out onto the uneven cobblestones. Before Damian could even raise his hands, four of the largest men slammed into him, grabbing his shoulders and arms with a brutal, crushing force, dragging his rigid frame away from the doorstep and forcing him toward the back seat of the center vehicle.

"Get your hands off me," Damian growled, his own internal Alpha energy flaring aggressively for a split second, though he purposefully refrained from releasing a full shockwave against his own people.

The men said nothing. They opened the reinforced door and forcefully shoved him into the luxurious, leather-lined interior before slamming it shut behind him, completely locking out the noises of the slums.

Sitting in the deep shadows of the spacious back seat was a man with stark white hair, sharp features, and cold, calculating eyes that looked exactly like Damian’s. He was dressed in an expensive, dark silk suit, a thick cigar unlit between his fingers.

The Mafia boss. Notorious Bellero Boren.

Damian adjusted his wrinkled shirt, fixing his father with a hard, irritated glare as the vehicle began to cruise slowly through the dark lower sectors. "Why exactly are your men dragging me like a common criminal, Father? You know very well I could have come to your estate on my own if you had just called."

Bellero let out a low, gravelly scoff, turning his head slowly to look at his stubborn son. "Because you never listen, Damian. You never come when I call, and you only make pathetic, endless excuses to avoid your responsibilities in the family business. I am tired of waiting for you to grow up."

The older Alpha leaned forward, the terrifying, dominant weight of his years in the criminal underworld pressing heavily into the small space between them. His eyes narrowed with absolute intensity. "So tell me, my stubborn boy... when exactly are you planning to finally get that girl, Jannah Nenth? How far has your relationship with her actually progressed so far after all these months of you playing the saintly neighborhood doctor?"

Damian leaned back against the leather cushion, his face turning completely expressionless. "She has only just turned nineteen, Father. She is still very young, and I still have a lot of time to approach her correctly. I will make her my girlfriend soon. There is no need to rush things and scare her away."

"You foolish, naive boy," Bellero whispered, his voice dropping into a low, chilling rasp that vibrated with decades of hidden pain. "There is absolutely no fairness in this game. I have played this exact same game for years before you were even born, Damian. You know nothing of the truth. Women from Jannah’s specific bloodline... daughters of that cursed lineage... they are completely impossible to win over with soft words and sweet hearts. Your pathetic, fair pursuit will only lead to the exact same tragic results that I suffered."

Bellero reached out, his shaking fingers gripping Damian’s shoulder with a sudden, desperate tightness. "They never choose us, Damian. She will never choose you, just like her mother never chose me, no matter how much blood I spilled for her. It is a biological curse of the unchosen."

Damian forcefully knocked his father’s hand off his shoulder, his eyes burning with absolute, stubborn defiance. "I am not you, Father. And I am entirely sure that I will win her over. I will break the pattern."

Bellero slowly leaned back into the deep shadows of the car, his face disappearing from the light as the vehicle turned toward the dark docks of the lower sector. A dark, cynical smirk touched his lips.

"I will be right there to witness your absolute fall when she completely rejects your heart, Damian... and when that day comes, you will beg for the gang’s help."