If You Touch What's Mine
Danger didn't always announce itself.
Sometimes…
It waited.
Watched.
And struck when you felt safe.
The streets were calm.
Too calm.
Elara walked beside Ethan, small shopping bags in her hands, her expression quieter than usual.
She hadn't spoken much since morning.
Her mind still tangled in everything she was trying not to feel.
"You okay?" Ethan asked, glancing at her.
"I'm fine," she replied softly.
But she wasn't.
Not really.
Still—
For a moment…
It felt normal.
Almost peaceful.
That was the mistake.
A black van screeched to a stop beside them.
Everything happened too fast.
Doors flung open.
Men stepped out.
Masked.
Armed.
"Elara—!"
Hands grabbed her.
Rough.
Unforgiving.
"ETHAN!" she screamed as she was dragged away.
Ethan lunged forward—
But a gun was raised instantly.
"Move and you're dead."
He froze.
Powerless.
The van door slammed shut.
And just like that—
She was gone.
Silence fell over the street.
Ethan's breathing turned uneven, panic flooding his chest as he fumbled for his phone.
There was only one person to call.
Damian answered on the first ring.
"What?"
"THEY TOOK HER!" Ethan shouted, his voice breaking.
Silence.
Dead silence.
"What?" Damian's voice dropped.
Lower.
Dangerous.
"They were in a black van—four men—masked—armed—I couldn't—"
"What did they wear."
The question came sharp.
Focused.
Controlled.
Ethan swallowed.
"Black… but one of them had a red marking on his arm—like a symbol—"
That was enough.
Damian didn't say another word.
But something changed.
Completely.
Because the moment he heard it—
He knew.
The Russian Mafia.
And for the first time in a long time…
Damian felt something unfamiliar.
A sharp, tightening pain in his chest.
Not physical.
Something deeper.
Fear.
Real fear.
Not for himself.
For her.
"…No…" he muttered under his breath.
Because this wasn't supposed to happen.
Not to her.
Not like this.
Minutes later—
His phone rang.
Unknown number.
He answered instantly.
A voice laughed from the other side.
Cold.
Cruel.
"We have your wife."
Silence.
"What will you do now?"
Damian didn't react.
Didn't shout.
Didn't threaten.
"Give her the phone."
A command.
Not a request.
A pause.
Then—
A faint chuckle.
Because the man on the other side…
Understood power.
And he recognized it.
The phone shifted.
"Elara?"
"Damian—" her voice broke instantly.
"I'm scared…"
Something inside him tightened again.
Harder this time.
But his voice—
Stayed calm.
Steady.
Different.
"Don't be," he said quietly.
A pause.
"Just close your eyes."
Elara's breathing shook.
But she obeyed.
"And say my name… seven times."
A small silence.
"I'll be there."
That wasn't a promise.
It was certainty.
Elara nodded weakly, even though he couldn't see her.
"…Okay…"
The phone shifted again.
A deep laugh echoed through the line.
"You think that trick works?"
The Russian Mafia king.
His voice filled with mockery.
But Damian didn't respond.
Because he was already moving.
Elara closed her eyes tightly.
Her hands trembling.
"…Damian…"
Once.
"…Damian…"
Twice.
"…Damian…"
Three times.
Tears slipped down her cheeks.
"…Damian…"
Four.
"…Damian…"
Five.
Her voice cracked.
"…Damian…"
Six.
BANG.
The door exploded open.
Wood shattered.
Dust filled the air.
Elara's eyes flew open.
And there he was.
Standing in the broken doorway.
Damian "El Diablo" Reyes.
His eyes cold.
Deadly.
No hesitation.
No mercy.
The Devil had arrived.
The room froze.
Because no one—
No one—
Expected him that fast.
The Mafia king's smile faded slowly.
Because now—
He understood.
This wasn't revenge anymore.
This was a mistake.
A fatal one.
Damian stepped forward slowly.
His gaze locked onto Elara for just a second.
Checking.
Confirming.
Then—
It shifted.
To the man who took her.
And in that moment—
There was no humanity left.
Only the Devil.
"You should've killed me," Damian said quietly.
A pause.
"Because now…"
His voice dropped.
"…you don't get to live."