Chapter 5
The bright, cinematic colors of the cemetery suddenly felt harsh and exposing as Vanessa stared at her brother's ruined, bleeding body. The reality of her untouchable status had just been violently shattered by the handsome man in the black overcoat. But instead of retreating, her panic mutated into a desperate, hysterical fury.
Vanessa let out a shrill, piercing scream.
"You maniac!" she shrieked, her American accent pitching into a manic octave.
She charged forward, her ivory designer coat flapping around her legs. Blinded by rage, she raised her diamond-adorned hand and delivered a hard, stinging slap across Damon’s face.
Damon did not even flinch. His head barely moved. He stared down at her with a look of pure, unadulterated ice.
Furious that her strike had absolutely no effect, Vanessa suddenly reached past his broad, masculine frame, her manicured claws aiming directly for Grace, who was still cowering on the ground.
Damon reacted with terrifying speed.
He reached out and caught Vanessa’s wrist in mid-air. His grip was like a steel vice, crushing the delicate bones of her arm. He violently tore her hand away from Grace, halting her forward momentum instantly.
Vanessa gasped in shock, struggling against his immovable grip.
Without a single word, Damon pulled his left hand back and delivered one thunderous, devastating open-handed slap directly across Vanessa’s face.
The impact cracked through the silent cemetery like a rifle shot.
The immense physical force of the blow sent Vanessa spinning violently backward. She lost her footing in her designer heels, her arms flailing helplessly as she was thrown through the crisp, clean air.
Vanessa spun backward directly into a towering, freestanding memorial-photo easel that had been set up for a nearby funeral.
The collision was spectacular. The lightweight wooden frame collapsed instantly behind her under her heavy impact. Beautiful, ribboned bouquets of white lilies and roses overturned, scattering petals across the pristine grass. Large, elegantly framed memorial photographs slid off their rests, the glass shattering against the stones. Woven flower baskets tumbled sideways, spilling dark soil and blooms everywhere.
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Vanessa crashed heavily beneath the fallen memorial decorations. She lay sprawled on the ground, tangled in silk ribbons and crushed flowers, gasping for breath as she clutched her rapidly bruising, rosy cheek.
Once again, no dialogue was spoken. The violence had been executed with clinical, terrifying precision. Damon stood in the center of the destruction, an untouchable warlord who had just forcefully reminded everyone present exactly why he was the apex predator.
