Revenge amnesia upgraded to his brother novel Chapter 68

**The Goodbye That Never Reached You and My Life Chasing 68**

**Damian’s POV**

A rough hood was thrust over my head, plunging me into a suffocating darkness as they unceremoniously shoved me into the back of a car.

The air was thick with the stench of decay and blood, an odor that clawed at my throat and churned my stomach. My heart raced, a frantic drumbeat echoing in my ears, as terror gnawed at my insides like a ravenous beast.

“Lucien! Is that you?” I shouted, my voice hoarse with panic. “You’ve lost your mind! You can’t have Norah, so you decide to kidnap me instead?”

My curses flew into the void, each word a desperate plea for acknowledgment, but all I received in return was silence, heavy and oppressive.

When the car finally jolted to a stop, I was yanked from the vehicle and dragged into a damp, frigid space that reeked of mildew and gasoline. The chill seeped into my bones, making me shiver involuntarily.

With a swift motion, they ripped the hood from my head, and I found myself shoved into a crude shower room, the stark fluorescent lights glaring down like judgmental eyes.

Hiss!

A torrent of icy water blasted against me from a pressure hose, the shock of it stealing my breath. I stumbled, my feet slipping on the slick, freezing tiles, and I collided painfully against the hard surface. The water felt like needles piercing my skin, burning with an intensity that made me gasp.

“Do you even know who I am?” I yelled, my voice a mixture of fury and desperation. “I’m Damian Constantine! My mother will have you killed for this!”

They responded with cruel indifference, aiming the jet at my face, forcing water into my nostrils and throat, making me cough violently.

Their actions were mechanical, devoid of any emotion, like workers at a slaughterhouse methodically hosing down livestock.

When it finally ceased, I stood trembling uncontrollably, my teeth chattering as the cold seeped into my very core.

They tossed a thin robe over my shoulders, the fabric doing little to shield me from the chill, and marched me deeper into the warehouse.

As I walked, my mind spiraled into dark fantasies of revenge against Lucien. I envisioned the moment I would confront him, how I would make him pay for this betrayal.

But when the heavy iron door swung open, my resolve faltered, and I froze in place.

The room was expansive and desolate, encircled by muscular men with predatory gazes, the kind one might encounter in the shadowy corners of underground clubs.

Under their intense scrutiny, the flimsy robe felt utterly inadequate.

They want to break me.

Then my eyes landed on the man lounging on the central sofa.

He was draped in a luxurious velvet robe, a cigar elegantly poised between his fingers, one leg crossed nonchalantly over the other.

His face was strikingly handsome, with chiseled features and amber eyes that pierced through the dim light, locking onto me with an unsettling intensity.

A chill ran down my spine. I recognized that face all too well.

Mateo.

The male model I had encountered at my private party in Madrid—the one I had fixated on, then violated in a drunken haze.

I had foolishly thought I could bury that incident, erase it from existence.

“Remember me, Damian?” Mateo rose gracefully, striding toward me, the scent of his cologne enveloping me like a dark cloud.

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