Chapter 5 The Shooting At The Orphanage

Elena's car drove through the narrow streets toward the orphanage.

Children were already gathered by the gate, their wide eyes brimming with excitement as they craned their necks to glimpse the Lancaster heiress.

Inside the car, Elena fidgeted with the hem of her dress. "Do I look approachable or... like some over-polished doll?" she asked, her voice filled with nerves.

Damian sat across from her, his gaze fixed on the street outside the tinted glass. "You look fine."

"Fine?" Elena muttered, glaring at him. "You could be a little more descriptive, you know. Normal people use words like pretty or elegant, or--"

"I'm not here to compliment you," Damian cut in smoothly, his tone flat.

Elena's mouth snapped shut, irritation flashing across her face. "You're impossible."

Damian didn't respond. His eyes tracked the rooftops, noting if there were any signs of danger.

His senses screamed for him to stay alert, though no threat had revealed itself yet.

The car finally slowed to a stop, and cheers and clapping broke out as Elena stepped out.

Her nerves melted away the moment small hands reached for her.

Children swarmed her, tugging on her dress, offering shy smiles, giggling when she knelt down to their level.

"Hi there," she greeted, her voice warm and genuine. "What's your name?"

"Amira," whispered a little girl with tangled braids.

"Well, Amira, I think this teddy bear belongs to you," Elena said, handing her one of the toys from the donation boxes.

The child's face lit up, and Elena's heart swelled. She moved easily from one child to the next, handing out gifts, listening intently to their stories, laughing when they tugged her hands to show her their drawings.

Her posture softened, her usual guarded mask dissolving into something radiant... More like freedom and genuine happiness.

Damian watched from a distance, his chest tightening.

The sound of laughter clawed at him, dragging him backward into memories he fought to bury.

His sister, Maria, was barefoot in the yard, her curls bouncing as she chased after him, giggling breathlessly. That same laughter was silenced forever after Victor Lancaster stole her life.

His fists clenched until his knuckles ached.

How dare Elena smile so freely? How dare she exist while his family lay in ruins?

And yet... he couldn't look away.

Elena twirled with two children, their hands gripping hers as they danced in a messy circle.

Her laughter continued to fill his ears, clear and unrestrained, filling the orphanage courtyard with a joy that felt contagious.

For a moment, she wasn't a Lancaster. She wasn't Victor's daughter. She was simply Elena... a woman glowing with life.

Damian's throat constricted. The sight of her dancing, her hair bouncing, and her smile so achingly bright... it was unbearable to watch.

Instead of anger, something else pressed against his ribs. Something dangerous. Something that had no place in his heart.

He turned away sharply, scanning the perimeter again. Focus. Revenge first. Nothing else mattered.

"Mr. Cole?"

A voice soon came through his earpiece. One of the guards stationed near the front gate spoke quickly. "Suspicious van circling the block. Blacked-out windows. It's been here three times now."

Damian's spine stiffened. His hand brushed against the inside of his jacket, where the cold metal of his weapon rested. "Keep eyes on it. Report back if it stops."

"Yes, sir."

Elena, oblivious to the tension around the security team, continued to kneel among the children, letting them place paper crowns on her head and paint her palms with messy swirls of colors

Minutes later, a deep rumble echoed from the street.

Damian's eyes snapped toward the gate just as the black van screeched to a halt. The doors suddenly flew open.

Gunfire shattered the air.

"Down!" Damian's roar cut through the courtyard.

Screams erupted. Children scattered, tripping over one another as bullets pinged off the stone walls.

Guards scrambled into position, returning fire. Chaos engulfed the orphanage in a matter of seconds.

Elena froze for a heartbeat, terror paralyzing her. The children she had been dancing with shrieked, clinging to her dress.

Damian was already moving.

He ran towards her, his eyes locked on her. Bullets whipped past him, but his body moved with the precision of a man born for violence.

"Elena!" he barked, grabbing her by the arm. He shoved two children behind a stone planter, shielding them before pulling Elena hard against his chest.

Her heart pounded wildly against him, and her breath caught in her throat. This was the first time they've actually been this close to each other.

"Stay down!" His voice was like steel.

"But the kids--" she tried to say.

"I said stay down!"

With one arm, Damian pulled her toward cover, his other hand drawing his weapon in a single fluid motion.

He fired at the van, his shots precise, each one meant to disable rather than warn. One attacker fell with a strangled cry, another staggered back, clutching his arm.

Elena's pulse quickened as she clutched his jacket.

The scent of gunpowder filled the air, mingling with the children's cries.

She had never been so close to violence like this before. Never so close to death. And never so close to Damian like this.

Yes, she had been kidnapped several times. However, none of her kidnappers treated her violently. After all, she was Victor's only child.

Within minutes, the bodyguards overwhelmed the attackers, forcing the survivors back into the van.

Tires screeched as it sped away, while bullets ricocheted off its sides.

Silence soon fell, broken only by the sobs of frightened children.

Damian holstered his weapon with calmness, though his jaw was tight, and his expression stoic.

"Move," he ordered Elena, his grip firm, as he guided her toward the waiting car.

Her legs trembled, but she let him lead her. She was shaking from fear.

Inside the car, the door slammed shut, sealing them away from the chaos outside.

Elena's composure was immediately shattered.

Tears spilled down her cheeks uncontrollably. She pressed her hands to her face, choking on a sob. "I hate him," she whispered, her voice cracking. "I hate my father. This is his fault. All of it. I know it. If it weren't for him, none of this would be happening."

Damian's hands tightened on the steering wheel as he started driving.

His thoughts were knives, slicing through his chest. 'If only you knew the true weight of your father's sins. If only you could see the bodies he left behind. My father. My sister. My family. Do you think life is unfair? No, Elena. Life is cruel. And your father is the reason why.'

He didn't speak out loud. His silence was enough than his words.

Beside him, Elena broke down completely, her shoulders shaking, and her sobs muffled against her palms.

Damian's jaw clenched, but his eyes were fixed on the road ahead. He couldn't look at her. He couldn't let himself feel what was clawing at his chest.

Because for the first time in years, something inside him shifted.

He had sworn to remain stone-cold. To never let empathy seep into his bones again.

But as Elena wept in the seat beside him, fragile and broken, Damian realized with brutal clarity that his greatest threat might not be Victor Lancaster's empire.

It might be her.