"Fuck!"
Damon held his head and shut his eyes tight.
Alan pulled away his gun and stood up. He stretched out his arm to Damon who ignored it and got up. Alan passed the gun to a guard and smiled.
"You lost the bet, which means you have to do anything I say," he said.
Damon bit his lip and glanced at me. "What do you want?"
"How about lunch first?" Alan asked.
"That's not happening," Damon sighed, his arms on his waist. "What do you want, Alan?"
"I'll tell you over lunch, come on," he said and walked away.
Damon gripped his hair tightly and mumbled something under his breath. He ran over to me, pushing the guards away, and held my face.
"Are you okay?" he asked.
"Why did you do that?" I asked.
"I wanted to protect you," he said.
"No, Damon. It's my job to protect you, not the other way around."
"You're wrong," he disagreed, shaking his head and I stared at him.
"It was your job to protect me, Ivy. Not anymore," he leaned and touched my stomach.
