Chapter 6: Mayhem and Bullets

[3rd POV—Damon]

Damon felt Cara stiffen underneath him, her body shaking uncontrollably yet his focus veered around the crowd, desperately trying to spot where the bullets were coming from.

A sniper. He asserted as the barrage of gunfire came from afar, tailing with a blaze only visible to the eyes in no more than a second.

“Fuck!” Keeping his arms and the mass of his body shielding Cara, Damon manages to tap into his communication device pierced on his ear, he hollered a command to Davien, his wingman connected on the other line. “Send back-up now!”

“Dad…”

Cara shifted beneath him, despondently whispering as if awakening from her trance. Her eyes well up with tears as she looks up at him, clinging to his collar like a lost child pleading for help. Both horrified and rambling. “My dad…mom?”

Damon wanted to hoist her into his shoulder and take her to safety. A peculiar feeling prodded his chest upon seeing this particular woman crying, and all he wanted to do is rip this world apart as punishment for hurting her.

Just on cue, a cry came nearby, snapping Cara’s attention away from him. 

“Baby? Richard!” It was Felicity, and before Damon could stop her, Cara shot to her feet and run to her mother.

“Mom!”

Locking his jaw tight, and spitting forth a string of curses. Damon hurled the rounded table, flipping it sideways making it a barrier between the shattered window and Cara as she fell immediately into her mother’s embrace.

He wanted to cross their distance. To hold her in his arms, shielding her away from the world. Yet, he could not let his mind stray from his surroundings while the sniper is still on a killing spree. 

The bullets pounced in a flurry on the concrete walls and the tiled floor, receding the metal clangs into a thin whine in the air. Shards and shrapnel flew all over the place as the plates and vases on top of the tables blew apart. 

Countless lifeless bodies lay still in their pool of blood. Those unfortunate enough to be caught up in this chaos.

Another explosion shook the ground, eliciting a cry from Cara and her mother as the two of them huddled against each other.

A movement caught Damon’s eyes. A plethora of masked men wearing overalls and armed with rifles came surging inside the vicinity. Scanning and shooting everyone that moves. 

These weren't his men.

Cursing under his breath, he hit the communication device again, impatient from the lack of response coming from his team. 

“Davien! Where the hell are you!”

The stud beeped twice, followed by a static voice. “Coming Dam. We already located the sniper. Two blocks away, rooftop, Ransford building approximately eight hundred meters.”

As much as he wanted to kill that fucker right now, his main concern at the moment was these goons scouring inside the restaurant, probably looking for them to finish off the job.

Whoever sent them here was a fool.

Sliding effortlessly to Cara, Damon briefly peels her hands from her ear so she could hear what he's about to say.

“I need you to stay here, don't move or make a sound. I will be back.”

She merely stared at him, still dazed. Damon wasn't sure whether she understood him, but he needed to get moving or things would get far worse.

“I’m going to fucking kill you, Davien.” Grumbling under his breath, he emerged from the hiding spot where he left Cara unspotted. 

Moving so swiftly behind the bullet-tattered drapery, targeting the closest masked man. Haunched low with the soles of his shoes barely making a sound. He came up from behind and shoots up his hands to the man’s neck, twisting it so quickly before it could make any noise.

Taking the rifle off the man, he checked first if it was loaded. A cold grin cocking up his lips. Adrenaline started to pump faster in his veins at the thought of shedding blood tonight and the prospect of having someone to torture for disrupting his lovely dinner with his gorgeous woman. 

Letting the devil take over himself, Damon pulled the trigger, handily shooting the others into a surprise assailed. Striking bullets straight into their heads and chest, all clean and precise shots. Reciprocating death, avenging those innocent lives they took before they even realize what was happening. 

He wanted to laugh at their faces, but he couldn't. He wouldn't risk it while Cara is around. He needed to keep cool.

Right before the last shell fell into a resonant clank into the floor. The last of his target fell with a loud thud. Just in time his torpid men arrived. 

They were poised, guns aimed ready to shoot, but all went frozen and instantaneously lower their weapons when didn't see any adversary to fight. 

Only Damon stood before a plethora of dead bodies. 

Dark eyes blazed with rage. 

“You fools took damn long enough!” He roared furiously, rifle sling on his shoulders, a thin cloud of smoke still swirling in the air and a faint scent of sulfuric gunpowder lingers.

In a beat of a few long strides, he crosses their distance and quickly grabs the first man near him by the collar callously. Pressing the rifle’s muzzle into the man’s throat threateningly, he growled viciously. “Be grateful I can't kill you tonight, but that doesn't mean you won’t get punished for your indolence.”

It was empty, he knows, but it was satisfying to see the man scared shitless and him quavering like a damn stupid pup tucking his tail between his legs.

“Where is the fucktard?!” Damon thundered, shoving the man he was holding, and whipped his head to the rest of them.

“With Davien, boss.”

One brave enough to step up, but the slow bobbed of his throat hasn’t gone unnoticed to Damon. Afraid that their boss would his sheet again and start shooting them all for arriving late.

He might have, and he’s tempted, yet a low whimper and a stifling sob caught his keen attention, reminding him of the woman he ought to protect. Tossing the rifle blindly to his men, Damon rushes to the spot where he had left them, and what he sees next made his heart prick for the ladies.

Rocking back and forth on her heels, Mrs. Davidsons cradled her husband’s bloodied head on her chest while Cara, silently crying, rubbed her mother’s back in a futile attempt of comfort.

Damon kneeled over to her side, gently placing his palm on her shoulder. She jolted at his touch at first but then relaxes when she realized it was him. Her sob grew louder, her perfectly round bosom heaving on her skin-tight silver dress, beckoning to him in such untimely circumstances. 

He swept the magnificent stray tresses of golden hair that fell into her face, ever so carefully tilting her head like a fragile, prized doll made out of glass he cupped in his palm and wiped his thumb over her tear-stained cheeks, controlling his urges and ignoring his suddenly stiffed cock. For being so disheveled and distraught, by far without an effort, her beauty hasn’t been tampered with. She could be wearing a tattered dress made out of rugs and he would still find her attractive among all other women.

He can’t break her. She’s the only one that made him feel so…human. Not a monster.

To be able to feel.

Sighing softly, Damon crooned, surprising himself how he was able to act so tenderly around her as if he hadn't just gone on a frenzy. “Cara, you must leave now...” 

Pain and denial among all other emotions stood out prominently in her captivating almond-shaped eyes despite the grief. Cara shakes her head, still a little incoherent with a bereaved cracked voice. “No...dad...stay.”

Yet, he understands her perfectly. She doesn’t want to leave her father, but it is not safe for her to stay in this place. There might be others coming in and he can’t take the risk of putting her life in jeopardy. Her mother including.

“It’s okay, I'll take care of him.” He promised, wrapping his arm around her shoulder and helping her stand.

“Richard…please…my love, wake up!”

For Damon, death is the most natural thing in the world, and even felt no remorse for taking one's life especially if that person deserved a brutal end. He’s cruel, forged to have a heart of steel layered with thick ice. He’d seen deaths more gruesome than this and not even flinch at the sight of it, however, witnessing such a harrowing moment made him feel something strange when he was supposed not to.

“Mom…” Cara’s voice broke him out from her reverie, reminding him that he still had an urgent business to take care of and it cannot wait any much longer.

“Mrs. Davidsons,” he softly called the bereaved woman. “It’s no longer safe to linger here. You need to go, I’ll have my men bring you to your home securely.”

He let Cara go briefly to take care of her mother as he motioned his men to come forward. Clearly giving them instructions on what to do, or else facing his wrath. “Bring them home safe. If I find a single scratch on their skin, even the tiniest one. I will flay you alive. You understand?”

“Yes, boss!” Terrified at most knowing that it wasn’t just a threat, they all nodded in unison and escorted the ladies out of the catastrophe. 

Damon didn’t want Cara to be out of his sight, yet he doesn’t want her to see the monster side of him he’s been trying to conceal from her for these past few weeks.

Right after Cara and her mother left, safely tucked into one of his armored SUVs, he immediately called Davien. He was with the sniper and still haven’t left the rooftop building where he aimed his assault. Damon reach the place in no time, finding Davien and a gagged man bound with cable ties. He was already beaten up to a pulp, his face bloodied and almost unrecognizable. The MK13 sniper’s gun used remained untouched from its position on the ledge.

Without any preliminaries, Damon planted one knee into the sniper's belly, bringing most of his weight down to elicit pain and supposedly crush the internal organs. Ripping off the gagged wedged between his teeth, and started interrogating. 

“Who do you work for?!”

However, the man only laughs hysterically between coughing and gasping for air. “Fuck you...Your reign is over, Montreal.”

A black pill suddenly appeared underneath his tongue, and before Damon could shove his finger into his mouth to prevent what is about to happen. The man bites the pill down in half, pouring the green liquid straight into his throat. Not a second later, his body started convulsing, foam of saliva oozing from his mouth, eyes rolled back turning them completely white.

The sniper has gone lifeless in a beat.

He killed himself before Damon could extract any information, deeming that it was the safest way out than forego a series of torture in the future.

“Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” Frustrated and with a surge of anger boiling up to his head, Damon remove himself from the dead body on a whim, continuously kicking and stomping over it. Grunting in satisfaction when he heard the bones crunch underneath his feet until the body turns limp and pliable.

Davien, his wingman, also his identical twin brother, looking at him with a void expression on his face. 

Perfectly knowing not to intervene with his fit of temper.