Free Web NovelChapter 212: Chapter Two Hundred And Eleven
"How?" Syrus asked, his voice full of disbelief and frustration. "How can you be so oblivious when it involves the matters of the heart?"
Damon frowned deeper. He did not understand why Syrus was acting so dramatic. He had simply stated a practical fact about his own medical needs.
Syrus leaned forward again. He looked at Damon with a very stern, almost angry expression. It was time to give his friend a harsh, painful dose of truth. frёewebηovel.cѳm
"This is exactly why," Syrus said strictly, his voice dropping into a harsh, unforgiving whisper. "This is why she gave up her feelings for you."
Damon’s entire body wentstiff. The words hit him like a heavy blow to the chest.
"For an entire year," Syrus continued ruthlessly, not letting Damon escape the truth. "You acted perfectly fine without her. You acted like you didn’t need her. You built a massive, freezing ice wall around yourself. You pushed her away every single time she tried to come close. You showed her that she was completely useless in your life."
Damon swallowed hard. His throat felt incredibly dry, like it was filled with hot sand.
"And now," Syrus said, shaking his head slowly in pity. "Now you have finally realized her worth. Now you are the one chasing after her. But you are still using your old, cold methods. You are still acting like a machine. If you keep telling her you don’t need her help, she will completely believe you. And she will find someone else who actually appreciates her care."
Damon sat frozen in his chair. The image of Camilla flashed violently into his mind. He remembered her crying in her sleep. He remembered her whispering the name "Winston" with such desperate, deep longing. He remembered her begging Winston not to push her away.
"Is this why she loves him?" Damon thought to himself, his heart aching painfully. "Does this Winston let her care for him? Does he show her his vulnerability? Does he make her feel needed and important?"
Damon gulped loudly. The sound was clear in the quiet tavern. Cold fear gripped his heart tightly. He was terrified that his own stubborn independence was actively pushing his wife straight into the arms of another man.
Syrus saw the deep fear and the sudden realization wash over Damon’s face. Syrus let out a long, softer sigh. His anger faded, replaced by genuine sympathy for his struggling friend.
"I know you are capable, Damon," Syrus said gently, his voice returning to a warm, brotherly tone. "I know you can fight an entire army alone. I know you can bandage your own wounds, you have been doing it since time began. But that is not the point."
Syrus reached out and tapped the table lightly.
"The point is to share your life," Syrus explained softly. "Just let her take care of you. Let her do something nice for you. It won’t kill you to pretend that you need a little bit of help."
Damon stared at the table. He processed the advice. He understood the tactical logic behind it now. It was not about medical necessity; it was about emotional connection. It was a strategy to create intimacy.
But he was not used to taking risks without knowing the exact outcome. He was terrified of rejection.
Damon slowly raised his eyes. He looked at Syrus.
Damon spoke. His voice shook just a tiny, noticeable fraction. He asked the one question that terrified him more than death itself.
"What if she doesn’t?" Damon asked softly.
He imagined himself returning to the mansion. He imagined taking off his shirt, showing her the bloody cut, and asking for her help.
"What if she looks at my injury and simply turns her back on me?" Damon thought fearfully. "What if she tells me to call a servant? What if she doesn’t care if I am hurt?"
Syrus looked into Damon’s worried eyes. Syrus did not smile. He did not offer empty comfort or false hope. He delivered the brutal reality of the situation.
"Then you lost, brother," Syrus replied firmly. His voice was serious, leaving no room for doubt.
Syrus picked up his glass of red wine from the table.
"If she refuses to help you when you are actively bleeding and asking for her care," Syrus stated clearly, "then it means she truly doesn’t care about you anymore. It means her heart is completely closed to you."
Syrus brought the glass to his lips.
"And if that happens," Syrus finished the dark sentence, "you will die lonely."
Syrus drank his wine in silence.
Damon sat frozen in his chair. The words echoed loudly and violently inside his brain.
You lost. You will die lonely.
He felt a heavy weight settle directly onto his broad shoulders. The stakes of this silent war in his mansion were higher than any territorial dispute or border conflict. If he failed this mission, he would lose the only person he had ever truly wanted to keep.
Damon stared blankly at his own untouched glass of wine. He began to ponder the advice deeply.
"It is a huge risk," Damon thought, his heart beating fast with nervous anticipation. "If she walks away, I will know for sure that she hates me. But if she stays... if she actually helps me clean the wound... then maybe, just maybe, I still have a small chance to win her back from this Winston." ƒгeewёbnovel.com
Damon slowly pushed his chair back from the table. The wood scraped loudly against the tavern floor.
He stood up to his full, towering height. He buttoned his coat tightly around his chest.
"Thank you, Syrus," Damon said softly.
Syrus lowered his wine glass and nodded his head slowly. "Good luck, Damon. You are going to need it."
Damon did not reply. He turned his back and walked with long, fast strides out of the warm tavern.
He walked over to his waiting black horse, grabbed the leather reins from the worker, swung his leg over the saddle, and mounted the beast smoothly.
Damon cracked the leather reins firmly.
Snap.
The horse neighed loudly and took off in a rapid, heavy gallop. The metal horseshoes sparked against the stone pavement as Damon rode with speed toward the Benson mansion.
