Claimed by the Mafia Don-Chapter 42: I Hope To See You Again

ZOE DEAN’S POV

The stranger didn’t move. He stayed crouched in front of me, eyes locked on mine. There was something about his gaze — sharp but not unkind. It wasn’t the kind of look that frightened you, not exactly. It was the kind that saw too much, like he could read every thought I tried to bury.

I swallowed hard, my throat tight. "Who... who are you?" The words came out shakier than I intended, but I forced them out anyway. I needed to say something, to prove to myself I wasn’t just a trembling mess sitting on the ground.

He tilted his head slightly, studying me. "You don’t want to know," he said finally.

That wasn’t an answer. I frowned a little, confusion flickering through my fear. His tone wasn’t dismissive — more like he was warning me. But still, I hated when people dodged questions. Nero was fond of that.

I pushed myself up a bit, trying to regain some courage. I wasn’t shaking as much now. Maybe because compared to the group of men from earlier, he didn’t feel like a threat. Dangerous, yes — but not in that same, predatory way.

He straightened to his full height, and I realized just how tall he was. The dim streetlight caught the line of his jaw, glinting against what looked like a metal cuff or watch. Everything about him screamed don’t mess with me, but strangely, I didn’t feel the urge to run.

"Can you stand?" he asked quietly, his eyes searching mine.

I nodded — maybe too fast. My legs, however, had other plans. The moment I tried to get up, they wobbled under me.

He caught me before I could fall again, one strong arm circling my waist. His touch was firm but not rough, steadying me with an ease that felt practiced. The scent of leather and faint smoke clung to him, and for a second, I forgot how to breathe.

My heart drummed against my ribs. I felt small in his hold, painfully aware of how close we were.

He looked down at me, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "I thought you said you could walk?"

I blinked at him, heat rising to my cheeks. Was he teasing me? My mouth opened, then closed. I gently pulled away from his hold, determined to prove I could stand on my own this time.

"Th-thank you," I murmured, not daring to meet his eyes.

He didn’t respond right away. For a moment, all I heard was the soft rustle of his jacket as he adjusted it, and the distant hum of tires on wet asphalt.

Then his voice came again, low and curious. "Why are you out this late?"

I sighed, glancing away. "I didn’t plan to be. I was just... trying to get home."

"Home," he echoed, like he was turning the word over in his mind. Then, after a pause, "Where do you stay?" 𝙛𝓻𝒆𝒆𝒘𝙚𝓫𝙣𝙤𝒗𝙚𝓵.𝙘𝙤𝙢

I hesitated. Every instinct told me to be careful — that I shouldn’t be giving out personal details to a stranger in the middle of the night. But something in his tone made it hard to shut him out. It wasn’t demanding. It was... steady. Grounded.

"Down the road," I said at last.

He nodded once, decisive. "Come on. I’ll walk you."

I blinked at him, unsure I’d heard right. "What? No, you don’t have to—"

"It wasn’t a suggestion."

The calm authority in his voice froze me mid-sentence. It wasn’t threatening — just firm. Like arguing would be pointless.

I stared up at him, my pulse still uneven. Was he being protective, or controlling? I couldn’t tell.

"Who are you?" I asked again, quieter this time. Part of me didn’t want to know, but I needed to. I needed to understand the kind of danger I might be walking beside.

This time, he gave a faint smile — a ghost of one, really. "Since you’ve asked," he said, his voice smooth and unhurried, "you can call me Damien."

Damien.

The name rolled through my mind, unfamiliar yet heavy. It sounded like the kind of name that carried secrets — the kind people whispered, not spoke.

Still, my instincts whispered something different. You can trust him. I wasn’t sure why, but I decided to listen. If Nero had taught me anything, it was that sometimes you had to trust first and question later.

Damien’s gaze swept over the dark street again, like he was checking for danger. When his eyes found mine again, they softened just a little. "We should get you home. It’s late."

I wanted to argue — to say I could handle myself — but the truth was, I didn’t want to be alone out here anymore. "Okay," I said quietly.

He gave a small nod, and together we started walking. The silence that fell between us wasn’t uncomfortable. Just quiet — the kind that filled the space between two strangers who didn’t know what to say.

After a while, I finally spoke. "Thank you... for earlier. For helping me."

His response was simple. "It’s nothing."

Our footsteps echoed against the pavement, slow and steady. After a moment, he asked, "So, what’s your name?"

"Zoe," I said, my voice low.

"Just Zoe?" he asked, glancing down at me with a faint grin.

I hesitated, then sighed. "Zoe Dean."

He nodded, smiling as though approving it. "Nice name."

"Thanks," I muttered, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear.

The rest of the walk was wordless. I found comfort in the rhythm of our steps, the sound of the night breathing around us. For the first time that evening, I didn’t feel terrified.

When we reached my apartment building, I turned to him. "Thank you for walking me home."

He nodded, hands in his pockets. "You’re welcome, Zoe."

Something about the way he said my name sent a small shiver down my spine. I didn’t like the way my name sounded on his lips.

I smiled awkwardly and started toward the door, but then his voice came again, deep and quiet. "I hope to see you again, Zoe."

I froze, turning slightly. He was smiling, a cocky smile that made me shiver disapprovingly.

I blinked, unsure what to do with that, then shrugged it off and slipped inside the apartment.