The Untouchable Damien Royce

Chapter 4

The Poisoned Heiress.

Damien sat in the back of the car, looking out at the rain. His mother, Felicia, was still holding his hand, her grip tight as if he might vanish if she let go. For the first time in years, Damien was genuinely happy.

"I'll have the drivers take you wherever you need to go, Damien," Felicia whispered. "My home is your home now."

Damien gave a small, tired smile.

"It feels strange, Mother. I’ve spent twenty years thinking I was a mistake nobody wanted. I can’t lie... knowing I’m your son? It’s the best feeling I’ve ever had. But I have somewhere I need to go first."

"Where?"

"The cemetery," he responded, his voice dropping.

"Chloe told me about the stillbirth while I was in prison. I never got to see the grave. I need to tell my son I'm home."

Felicia’s eyes filled with tears, but she nodded. She let him off a few blocks away from the quiet hillside, giving him a private car and a driver. Damien gave instructions to the driver to wait and began walking, but as he cut through a narrow alley to reach the flower shop, he heard a scream.

Damien stopped.

His muscles tensed instantly. Following the sound, he stepped into the shadows of a dark trash alley.

Four men surrounded a woman; she was pinned against a brick wall, her dress torn at the shoulder. She was beautiful, with wonderful features and long dark hair, but her face was pale.

"Please," she gasped, her voice weak. "Just take the bag. Let me go."

"The bag is worth pennies, Amelia," one of the thugs laughed, pulling a switchblade. "Your father owes our boss a lot more than a purse."

Damien stepped into their line of sight. He was tired of hiding; his protective instincts cried a need to save the young lady.

"Let.her.go."

The thugs spun around immediately. The leader, a big man with a large scar on his neck, laughed loudly.

"Look at this Fucker. Get lost, old man, before I carve you up."

Damien didn't say a word, didn’t move.

The first thug lunged with a pipe, Damien stepped inside back fast before it could hit him, then struck the man's chin with his palm, which made a sickening thud. The man’s head snapped back, going limp before he even hit the ground.

The other three froze for a second, then rushed at him simultaneously. Damien’s reflex was like lighting; He caught the leader’s wrist, twisting it until the bone snapped like a dry stick, the man’s wail filled the enclosed place as his knife dropped to the ground.

Damien followed up with a heavy kick to the man’s ribs, sending him flying into a stack of wooden boxes.

The third man tried to tackle him from behind, but Damien didn't even look. He leaned forward, grabbed the man’s arm over his shoulder, and flipped him head-first into the wall. The sound of the impact was loud, making a sickening sound.

The last thug made to run, but Damien was faster. He grabbed the back of the man’s jacket and slammed his face-first into a dumpster.

Silence returned to the alley, broken only by the heavy breathing of the woman.

Damien rushed to her side, holding up her head slightly.

"Are you okay?"

Amelia tried to speak, but her breath came in small gasps, as he struggled to breathe. Damien noticed her hands were shaking, and quickly pulled back her sleeve, and froze momentarily; her veins were turning a sickly, ink-black color, spreading from her wrist.

"Toxin..." she whispered, her eyes fluttering.

Damien’s eyes narrowed.

This wasn't a normal poison. It was "Night-Shade," a rare chemical used by high-level assassins.

"Stay with me. I’ve got you."

He scooped her up in his arms. She was light, her skin burning with fever. He couldn't take her to a public hospital; the people who did this would finish the job there. He carried her back to the car and gave the driver an address to a penthouse in the city center, a safe house he had purchased through his best friend months ago.

Throughout the ride, she kept on shaking,

“Move Faster!”

Damien yelled at the man, he knew he needed to arrive on time, she didn’t have much time as she could die.

A few minutes later, they arrived at his penthouse. Damien rushed her inside, then laid her on a clean table. He stripped off his now-damp hoodie, revealing the heavy scars and powerful muscles on his back. He grabbed a medical kit from a hidden wall safe.

"This is going to hurt," he muttered, though she was barely conscious.

He used a sterilized needle to draw out the blackened blood, his movements steady. He mixed a clear liquid from two small vials—an SRI antidote that the world didn't even know existed yet. He injected it into her arm and watched. Slowly, the black lines began to recede.

While she rested, Damien sat on the edge of the sofa, his heart still racing. He picked up his phone and scrolled through it, looking for a distraction, as he waited for her to wake up soon.

Damien froze, his phone in his hand.

A video was trending at the number one spot; it was from the baby shower. The camera was zoomed in on his face, looking dirty, tattered, and broken.

“Look at this pitiful thief,”

George’s voice boomed in the video, “Damien Royce, the man who stole from my family, thinks he can just walk back into high society. He’s a dangerous lunatic. A dog who doesn't know his place.”

The comments were worse.

“Typical ex-con.”

“Chloe is so lucky she found a real man like George.”

“Someone should put that animal back in a cage.”

Damien stared at the screen. He thought about the son he never got to meet. He thought about the three years he spent in that prison for a woman who was now laughing at his ruin on a national podium.

The human part of him that wanted a simple life died in that moment.

He dialed a number. It rang once.

"Boss?" a cold, professional voice answered.

"Daniel," Damien said. His voice was stripped of any emotion. "Is everything prepared?"

"Awaiting your command, sir. We have the financial records for Pierce Group and the Sterling estate. We can pull the plug whenever you like."

Damien looked at the black sky through the penthouse window.

"Get ready, I may start pulling it all one by one," Damien commanded. "It’s time to start the harvest. We aren't just taking their money, Daniel.

“I want them to watch their world burn. We're crushing them all."