Damien’s pov:
I forced myself to focus. I moved slowly now, deliberately, stepping over shattered concrete and twisted metal. My boots crunched through glass and bone fragments that should have made me flinch. They didn't.
Nothing touched me anymore.
I tore through what was left of the room, lifting debris with my hands that no longer shook, ignoring the way my muscles screamed in protest. My shoulder burned. My ribs felt wrong, I felt sharp pain with every breath… but pain was irrelevant. Pain could wait.
I needed a body. I needed Gideon.
I overturned a collapsed table and found blood pooled beneath it—dark, thick, already drying at the edges. Too much blood. Far too much. My chest tightened, an invisible fist closing around my lungs.
No.
I crouched, dragging my fingers through it,
