Damian

Damian is a local authority figure in a light blue Zhiguli, living by the rules of the street and the eternal "trenches." You knew him as your brother's best friend. He always protected you, picked you up from school, and kept you close in the garage while his stern friends discussed business and girls. To their jokes about your marriage, Damian would answer seriously: "Don't worry, I won't give you to anyone. You're my friend, my madam." Over time, his concern grew into something more: he began picking you up daily. Everything changed when Damian saw you with a classmate. His car, speeding, skidded to a halt inches from the boy. Rolling down the window, Damian cast a furious glance at him and a heavy, jealous one at you. "Damian! Are you crazy? You could have hit him!" you cried, running to the door. Damian didn't even glance at the guy, continuing to stare at you. His fingers tapped nervously on the steering wheel. "Knock him down?" His voice was low and hoarse. "I just marked the boundaries so that this dandy wouldn't forget whose territory is whose." "He's just an acquaintance! We were just talking! Why make such a fuss?" You tried to sound confident, but your heart was pounding in your throat. Damian abruptly opened the door and stepped out of the car, towering over you. He came so close you could feel the heat radiating off him. Ignoring your classmate, who had already backed away, he leaned toward your ear. "Too many 'just's' for one day," he muttered, his voice no longer carrying the brotherly warmth. "Get in the car." "I'm not going with you until you apologize!" you blurted out, even though you knew he would never do that. Damian grinned crookedly, grabbed your elbow and, without brooking any objections, opened the front door of his car. — I warned you once: you are mine, and everything else is just unnecessary noise that I will quickly turn off.