Chapter 5 - The Wolf’s Vow
By the third morning, the storm outside had cleared, leaving Manhattan glistening under a pale, sharp winter sun.
Inside the penthouse, the atmosphere had shifted. Luz’s fever was completely gone. She was sitting propped up against a mountain of goose-down pillows in a massive bed, wearing a soft pink cashmere sweater, happily munching on pancakes covered in fresh berries.
Mateo sat on the edge of the bed, holding a brand-new, massive wooden train set that had been delivered to the suite earlier that morning by three silent, polite security guards.
Camila sat in an armchair nearby, dressed in a soft cream knit sweater and jeans. She looked restored, her dark hair clean and shiny, her skin glowing—yet her eyes remained vigilant, tracking every movement in the hallway.
A quiet knock sounded, and Damon stepped into the room.
He was dressed in a tailored charcoal suit, crisp white shirt, no tie. He looked every bit the powerful king of the city, yet as he stepped into the room, his eyes swept over the children with an almost hesitant gentleness.
Mateo instantly froze, clutching his new wooden train to his chest, looking at his father with cautious curiosity.
"Good morning," Damon said softly.
Luz wiped syrup from her lip with the back of her sleeve. "Are you the man who carried me out of the snow?" she asked, her voice small and sweet.
Damon’s heart did a violent flip in his chest. He walked over to the bed and knelt beside it, putting his hands on the mattress, bringing himself down to her eye level.
"I am," Damon said. "My name is Damon."
"Mommy said you're our father," Luz stated plainly, her big brown eyes searching his face. "She said you were lost."
Damon shot a quick, surprised glance at Camila. Camila looked away, crossing her arms, her jaw tight. She hadn't lied to the kids; she had simply told them their father was someone from long ago who had lost his way.
"I was lost," Damon whispered back to Luz, looking back at his daughter. "Very lost. But I found you now. How are you feeling?"
"My chest doesn't hurt when I breathe anymore," Luz said, offering him a small, syrup-sticky smile. "And the bed is soft. It feels like floating on a cloud."
Damon’s throat tightened. The knowledge that his daughter considered a normal bed a luxury ripped through his soul. He reached out, his big hand hesitating for a fraction of a second before gently tucking a strand of dark hair behind her ear. She didn't shrink away.
Mateo, however, slid off the bed and walked over to stand right beside Camila, watching Damon like a tiny bodyguard.
"You have a lot of big men with guns outside," Mateo said, his five-year-old voice trying to sound stern.
Damon looked at his son, a faint, proud smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "They are here to make sure no one ever bothers you again."
"I have my rabbit," Mateo said, lifting the old, tattered, one-eyed toy. "I protect Mommy and Luz."
Damon’s smile vanished, replaced by a deep, profound respect. He turned fully toward Mateo and bowed his head slightly. "You've done an incredible job, Mateo. You were the man of the house when I wasn't there. But you don't have to carry that weight alone anymore. That’s my job now."
Mateo stared at him, processing the words, then looked at his mother.
"Camila," Damon said, standing up. "Come with me to the study. We need to talk."
Camila hesitated, then nodded to the nurse standing by the door. She followed Damon down the long, marble-lined hallway into his private home office.
The study was massive, lined with thousands of leather-bound books, a massive mahogany desk, and bulletproof glass windows overlooking the city.
Damon walked behind his desk, picked up a thick leather folder, and slid it across the wood toward her.
"What is this?" Camila asked, not touching it.
"Full legal restoration of your identity," Damon said. "Five years ago, your records were wiped clean when you disappeared. Yesterday, I had my legal team reinstate your bank accounts, your trust funds, and your passport. There is fifty million dollars in a primary account under your name alone. No strings attached."
Camila stared at the folder, stunned. "Damon..."
"If you want to leave," Damon continued, his voice dropping into a hollow, painful tone, "the money is yours. I will buy you an estate anywhere in the world—London, Paris, the Swiss Alps. I will supply a full security team that answers only to you. You will never want for anything again."
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Camila looked up, her breath catching. "You're letting us go?"
Damon leaned against his desk, his dark eyes filled with an unbearable agony. "I want you to stay more than I want my next breath. I want to spend every day earning back your trust. I want to raise my son and daughter. But I won't turn this home into another cage for you, Camila. If seeing my face brings you nothing but pain... you are free to go."
