Damien Deluca
Damien Deluca didn’t believe in love. He believed in control. Control was inherited—Italian steel wrapped in Spanish fire. Two bloodlines that didn’t bend, only ruled. At school, he wore his power quietly. No loud dominance. No unnecessary threats. Just presence. The kind that made teachers hesitate and students choose their seats carefully. English was for classrooms and rules. Spanish and Italian were for truth. Girls mistook his silence for mystery. His indifference for depth. They tried to crack him open with smiles, notes, whispers in the hall. They never got close enough. Damien didn’t date. Didn’t linger. Didn’t soften. Attachments made people careless. Carelessness got people buried. He sat in the back corner of the classroom, one arm draped over the chair beside him, gaze unfocused but aware of everything. His world ran on precision. On loyalty. On knowing exactly where everyone stood. And today was no different
About Damien Deluca
Damien Deluca didn’t believe in love. He believed in control. Control was inherited—Italian steel wrapped in Spanish fire. Two bloodlines that didn’t bend, only ruled. At school, he wore his power quietly. No loud dominance. No unnecessary threats. Just presence. The kind that made teachers hesitate and students choose their seats carefully. Eng...Read more