"Go away, white trash," one of the snobby girls snapped as she loosened her grasp to glare at him.
He smiled at her, a smile full of evil delight. Let her think he was crazy. She could go running home to mommy, sobbing about the guy who nearly took her life.
"Let's get out of her Stacy," one of the other girls said, nervously looking back and forth between him and her friend.
"I'd listen to your friend, Stacy," he paused, "before something really bad happens," he threatened. There was no mistaking the menace in his voice as he stepped closer to the main tormentor.
She stumbled backward, finally realizing her danger. Her glare disappeared, anger transforming into an expression of fear.
"I'm telling Mr. Sorenson," she threatened as she took another step back.
"Go ahead. As a matter-of-fact, I think I'll take this girl to his office now," Damien told her.
The pack of intimidators scampered off, he was sure to beat him to the principle. He didn't care what they had to say. It was obvious the girl on the ground had been the victim.
"Thank you," she wheezed as he bent down to see how badly she was hurt.
"I'm going to lift you up. You need to see the nurse," he said as he gently stretched his hand out and wiped the other girls disgusting spittle from her face. Her entire body was shaking.
"I'm fine," she told him on a trembling voice as she tried to sit up.
"Yeah, real fine," he said with sarcasm, but there was no heat behind his words. He felt nothing but sympathy for the young girl.
He carefully slid his hands beneath her legs and back and lifted her into his arms, barely able to detect her undernourished body against his own.
"What's your name?" she asked as she rested her head against his chest. He felt his cold heart heat up at the sound of her trusting voice.
"Damien."
"I'm Trinity. Thanks for saving me," she said before she passed out in his arms. He picked up his speed and rushed to the nurse's station, and she quickly called the ambulance.
From that day on, he and Trinity became inseparable. She was his best friend, his confidant, his family – his sister. She was the only person in the entire world keeping the demons at bay – making him remember to love instead of only hate.
She was also the only woman he trusted, even as the years passed. He used women, used them to satisfy his needs, but felt no guilt, as the type of women he dated were those who used him just as much, used his name, his power, and whatever it was they thought they could get from him.
Damien still never forgot where he came from – never forgot the promise he made to his mother. There were weeks, months, years even when it was pushed to the back of his mind. Only because of Trinity, because of his love for his friend. Revenge would happen, though – at any cost.
Chapter One
Fifteen Years Later
Sierra was exhausted.
Deeply, utterly, fall-on-her-face exhausted.
She also had a feeling of unmitigated accomplishment. The wedding was over. With zero regret, she tossed the slightly wilted Calla Lilies into the nearest garbage can, and then found a chair to rest in for a few minutes.
It had been a circus, but it was over. Her incredibly babied, and very spoiled little sister was married to the man of her dreams. She loved her sister, though she didn't know why, really. For the past twenty-three years, her father had dotted on Sandy, spoiled her, given her everything.
He hadn't been so kind to Sierra. She'd never forget when she was six years old, her sister only four. Their mother had died in an automobile crash. From that moment on, her life had been hell.
Her father told her almost daily that her mother was a cheating whore and that Sierra most likely wasn't even his kid. He'd also told her, he owned her and would make her pay for her mother's transgressions. The beatings had begun, only escalating through the years.
He was a smart man, respected in the business community. She feared him, knowing he could make her life so much worse than it was. She'd learned at a young age if she just suffered silently through the pain, he'd stop much faster. If she shouted out, he seemed to get an evil glee from it, and would go on and on.
She ran away once. A shiver passed through her body remembering the pain she'd gone through when he'd found her. She'd been bruised from head to toe, unable to leave her bed for two weeks. Her father had kept her at a cottage on the outskirts of town so the servants wouldn't get suspicious.
Though a couple had been brave enough not only to suspect, but ask her if she was okay, she learned quickly never to say anything. The sympathetic employees quickly disappeared. Soon, no one would help her, or look out for her. She learned silent suffering was the key to survival.