A/N: Views may be off because, like I mentioned before, I rewrote this a long while ago and rearranged the chapters.
By the way, for anyone who doesn't know, a motorcade is basically a line/group of cars.

Shawn Mendes- If I Can't Have You

Astrid S- When Love Takes Over

Grace Vanderwaal- Waste My Time

Once Direction- Strong

Taylor Swift- Call It What You Want

Damien's picture ^

I close my hands around it before I hear a sharp sound past my ears. I frown and look up. There's something black indented on the wall. I move closer and touch it. My eyes widen. A bullet.

How the hell did a bullet get in there?

Suddenly, I see a red light moving on the wall. I quickly turn around to see a small hole through the window. The sound of my yelling are muffled when the window shatters, sending glass shards everywhere. The sharp sounds of bullets are deafening as they tore through the open space.

A week ago...

Damien's POV

"You barely come to my parties anymore," Carlos complains for the millionth time.

I shrug, even though he can't see me. "I don't feel like partying so much anymore. It's not a big deal."

"Not a big deal? You used to come to my parties every single week and now you only came to, like, three this year!"

"You're fucking dramatic, man. We still hang out, it's not that serious."

"You always ditching us for that girl. You in love or something?"

"None of your business." Carlos takes this as confirmation and howls in laughter. I pull away from the phone so that the screeching doesn't burst my eardrums.

I text Hope, telling her Carlos is making fun of me about her again. "Did you not hear me?" I hear Carlos ask.

"What?"

"I'll bet your whipped ass a hundred dollars that you're texting her right now."

I roll my eyes. "I'll see you later."

"See? You're so whipped! You owe me!" I hear his laughter through the phone before I hang up. My annoyance disappears when I see a text from Hope.

Carlos voice rings in my ears. You're so whipped.

Can a guy just love a girl in peace? Damn.

Hope's POV

Tonight is my parent's anniversary and I'm sitting on my mother's bed while she brags about how my father is taking her to the family cabin for a special dinner he had planned. It was a three-night stay but you'd think otherwise by the size of her suitcase.

My phone vibrates and I pull it from my pocket to check for the incoming text.

Hey baby ;)

I type out a reply: Thank you for the rose and the note. I love it. Didn't get a chance to tell you that yesterday ♥️♥️

Of course not. You was too busy sticking your tongue down my throat

"Why are you smiling at your phone? Is that Damien?" My mom asks as she folds her clean clothes and put aside options for the cabin trip. She practically forced the maids out of her room so she can do it while "having a girl chat" with me. But really, she just wanted my opinion on what to wear and she knew they'd go crazy by the time she's decided.

"No," I say too quickly, typing a quick reply.

"Uhuh. You know, you can always invite him here. I want to meet this guy before it actually gets serious." She's folding her clothes, but I catch her sneaking a look to gage my reaction.

When I don't answer her, she continues. "You know, some people that you might trust and think are good people could be using you. And it's always the victim who's last to realize it."

He tells me Carlos is making fun of him and I type out a witty reply before prying my eyes away.

"Mom, he's not using me. He doesn't know who I am, remember?"

"I know," She says but her eyes are full of doubt as she folds her bras and stack it into the suitcase on the bed.

"You don't believe me?"

"Well, not really. It's just hard to believe. I know you believe that, but what if he's just pretending not to know?"

"Mom, we had this conversation. I trust him."

"Trust can be misguided."

"I can't believe you're saying that," I say exasperated. She holds up a black dress that's a bit too flared. I shake my head at it and she folds it with the rest of the clean clothes. "Besides, it's not that hard to believe. It's possible. I never knew Bill Clinton's kids names until we moved into the White House and was force-fed political history. And it'd be silly if he was pretending not to know anything."

Also, Damien isn't a good liar. I would know if he was lying.

I get another text. Beach?

I shake my head at my phone even though he can't see me. Too many ppl

At night? Could be fun , Damien offers

Okay cool.

Give me your address. I'll pick you up.

The smile drains from my face as I settle into a mini-panic. My mom is still speaking to me, judging me I'm sure, but I tune her out while I figure out a way to get me out of this situation.

I'll just meet you at your house. My mom's got me running errands.

The next moments are raised in suspense as I wait for his reply. I feel guilty for lying, but I don't know what else to do.

sure

"Oh my God!" My mom exclaims. I look up to see her with her mouth agape.

"What?" I panic. She stalks towards me and lifts my hair.

"Is this what you were doing yesterday?" She asks. I frown and walk to the mirror. I gasp in horror. There's a huge bruised mark on the side of my neck.

I turn to my mom, heat rising in my cheeks. "I-I-" I stammer.

My mom breaks into surprised laughter and shakes her head. "I never thought I'd catch you with a hickey. You out of all people."

"You're not mad?" I frown.

She rolls her eyes. "Please. I was sporting hickeys every other day when I was with your father."

"Wow mom, thanks for that. I really needed those details." I cringe as the image rises to my mind.

She laughs. I get up from her bed and pick up the heels that she was examining. "Mom, it isn't a week. You'll be fine with those clothes and one heels."

"It'll be boring with the same heels."

"Take the black one too, then."

"How about this one?"

"Mom!"

***

"You know why I allow you to go on dates with this guy?" My dad asks, clicking the power button on the tablet he was reading from. I suddenly feel guilty bothering him about a date when he just flew from California to talk to victims from the wildfire and had a press talk the second he got back. In about two hours, he'll be holding a rally in Washington before heading to his trip.

"Honestly, I don't," I admit.

"I haven't seen you this happy in a long time. And as long as you're happy, I'm happy. Ever since Isabelle, you haven't been the same-"

"Dad, I get it," I interrupt, taking a deep breath to halt the pain crawling up my chest.

"I'm just saying that I'm glad you're dating. It's good for you." He opens and then closes his mouth, seeming to think better of what he was about to say.

"Thanks, dad," I say awkwardly.

He stares at me, deep in thought, for a moment before lightly tapping the desk with his knuckles twice.

"Okay, go ahead. But because it's so public, you'll be taking 6 agents with you."

"Six?" I ask incredulously. "I only need like 2!"

"Hell no."

"4," I compromise.

"6. Or you can come swim in the pool downstairs."

"Very funny."

"Thanks." He smiles dryly. "Anyways, I'll send the word. Go get ready."

Six freaking agents? How the hell is Damien not going to notice that?

When the sun sets, we all climb into the car and yet again I suffer from the agents' endless teasing about Damien. Sarah doesn't hold back and I look at her in horror. The boys have poisoned her too. I get out a couple of blocks from the address and walk down to his house, the agents following slowly by car.

My heart skips a beat as I walk up the steps, grinning like a fool. He opens the door before I can knock and greets me with a smirk.

"Hi."

"Hi."

"Not bad," I say, giving him a pointed once-over. He's wearing a red shirt that makes his green-speckled hazel eyes look more intense. I never knew he looked so good in red. But he looks good in anything, to be honest.

"You can just admit it. I'm ridiculously hot."

"Only on your good days," I retort.

He laughs. Without warning, he grabs my arm and pulls me inside and shuts the door behind him. Before I can say anything, he backs me up against the wall. My lips part in anticipation.

He swipes his thumb across my cheek and tips his nose against mine. I close my eyes, relishing in the way my heart pounds against my chest at his soft touches. His lips brushes my cheeks, then my nose, down my neck and up to my cheeks again, sending wild tremors up my spine. I let out an involuntary gasp and suddenly without warning, he's kissing me. I reach up for his neck and his lips laps around mine, fervent and demanding. His mouth is my command and I invite his tongue by parting my lips. I hear a low guttural groan from his throat and I return the response. My hands knot in his hair and I'm pulling him closer in a desperate attempt to dissolve the space between us. He loops his fingers around the belt loop of my shorts and pull me even closer, allowing me to feel his erection.

Oh.

A moan escapes from my lips. I feel his thumbs glide across my stomach, just below the crop-top line, evoking a slow warmth to encircle me. Sudden heat shoots down there as his hands move up under my shirt.

I reluctantly pull away, both of us breathing hard, and I'm sure my eyes are mirroring the desire in his. He leans in again and gives me a soft kiss before biting my lip.

"Fuck," He whispers against my lips.

"Mhmm," I agree. My eyes are closed, reluctant to break away from the moment, but I know at any minute, the agents will be warning me to leave the house as it was not our planned location. 

Sure enough, a loud honking sound rips us apart and the sound doesn't stop until Damien flings open the door.

"Way to ruin our moment," He snaps when he doesn't find the culprit. I laugh knowingly and plan to detail to them about why they have the worse timing, though I'm sure it will only encourage them.

"We should go." My voice is amused and he plants a kiss on my lips.

He scrunches his lips and pick up his bag.

Damien's POV

She's standing under the porch lighting, illuminating her beautiful, dark skin. She's smiling and my breath gives way at the sight of her beauty and suddenly she feels too far away from me. I reel her in and close the door behind me. I back her up until her back is against the wall and tease her by touching her face, brushing my lips on her.

I can't contain myself any longer. I push my lips against her mouth, telling her how I feel in a way that my mind couldn't process. It's unlike any other kiss I've had, even Jane's was comparably mild. My mind spins around and back. A groan escapes from my lips as do hers, and it sends me into erection. Her tongue is slow but demanding, her hand in my hair forcing me to deepen the kiss. I want to touch her, I want to fuck her, but I know I can't since she made it clear she wanted to take it slow. And although it's very unlike me, I'm fine with that. I just want to be with her. I just want to love her. Right now at this moment. Forever. I pull her belt loop closer to my hip, squeezing out every last inch of air between us. I trail my hands on her stomach and revel in the feeling of the smooth surface. For some reason and much to my dismay, she pulls away.

Feeling greedy, I kiss her again and bite her lip. "Fuck." The words stumble out of my mouth and it isn't enough to describe what just happened, but I couldn't think of another word to compensate. I knew I had said we shouldn't go too far like this, but I couldn't help it.

"Mhmm," Her lips vibrate against mine and suddenly a loud honking sound makes me jump back a step.

"Way to ruin our moment," I spit, angrier than I'm letting on. The moment is over and I collect my bag and enter my car. I place my hand on her thigh while I drive, evoking the goofy grin I love. After finally arriving, I park the car and grab our bags.

My heart skips a beat as I contemplate whether to hold her hands. The action is so mundane and yet I've never done it before. In all our seven months of dating, I've never held her hand while walking. It seemed crazy to think about, but we never went on walks anyway. I scratch my eyebrow and glance at her, though she doesn't seem to be paying attention.

My heart skips another beat and I decide to joke instead. "Your hand looks heavy. Here, let me hold it for you" I stick out my hand, feeling the rushing heat in my cheeks. Thankfully, it's dark.

She laughs and swats my back before accepting my hand. "This is a first," She says, referring to the fact that we've actually never held hands before.

"You're my first for a lot of things," I admit. She smiles at my confession and we walk aimlessly to the water.

The ocean spread out in the distance, a carpet of matte blue. Clouds brushstroked across the sky, like a ball of cotton candy someone had picked apart and scattered carelessly. The water lapped against the earth and underneath the sky, which lit up in soft pastels; blues and pinks and whites. Beautiful, I think, as I watch her close her eyes and tilt her head up to enjoy the hot wind blowing through her hair.

"This is beautiful," She echoes. We stop near the cliff where the number of people were very sparse. There isn't much people anyway, the rest of them spread out in random places.

The rocky cliffs jutted out into the ocean, the sharp edges ominously black against the setting sky. A wave crashes up against the cliff, spraying whitecaps into the air. I empty out my bag that had a towel, sunglasses, and sunscreen. She eyes the sunglasses and sunscreen in an amused expression.

I laugh. "I didn't think it through, huh?"

"Let's get in the water," I tell her and pull my shirt off. I'm already in my swimming trunks.

She laughs and I can tell she's nervous. "You're too shy, it's not a big deal," I tease. "Unless you want to go skinny dipping..."

She rolls her eyes and strips her shirt and pants and I make a very dramatic point not to look at her.

"Oh my God, woman!" I say covering my face and contorting my face as if I'm in pain. She swats me on my back and take my hand, leading me to the water. The water instantly cools my body. It's unusually hot for March, and I'm glad we're taking advantage.

We stop when we're waist-deep in. I catch her eyeing my body as I splash water onto my face and hair.

"See something you like?" I tease. She doesn't say anything, but she smiles and nods before splashing me. I spread my arms and quickly rush it closer together, soaking her entire body. She shrieks and splashes me again. My mind reels as I realize she's wearing a one piece with open sides, showing off her defined curves. Without thinking I run my hand on her exposed skin. She shivers, but doesn't stop me. I move closer to her and trail kisses on her neck. My hands slides up and down her sides and she closes her eyes and wraps her arm around me. I kiss her forehead and then her cheek. She shivers and then my mouth is trailing her nose and when I'm about to reach her lips, I grab her by the waist and throw her into the water. When she resurfaces she tries to hit me but I move back in time.

"You're an asshole!"

"I'm your asshole," I wink at her.

"You're so corny." But she's laughing with a giddy expression and despite the cold water, I suddenly feel warm.

Hope's POV

"What are you doing to me?"

"What?" I turn my head to him. I'm floating in the water, enjoying the view of the colorful, dark sky. Damien, however, is standing beside my floating body, staring at me with piercing eyes.

"I'm going crazy," He laughs.

"What do you mean?" I bite back a smile. I'm pretending not to know, but I think I do. I love when he talks like that, the rare moments where he isn't joking and he tells me how he really feels about me.

"Nothing." He shakes his head and laugh. He scratches his eyebrow, a nervous habit. His ears turn red.

"Tell me," I press, flipping my hand just below the water so it sprays on his face. He sprays it back and I turn my head to avoid the water going into my nose.  "Tell me!"

He swims closer to me. His head is above the water and my body is still floating.

"I'm crazy about you," He says before dunking my body underwater. When I resurface, I try to spray him using my feet but he moves back. I can tell he's embarrassed by his confession so I don't tease him about it. Instead we stare at each other, smiling like idiots. If I knew falling in love would feel like this, I would've done it sooner.

He eventually wraps his arms around my waist and pulls me in. Suddenly I feel self-conscious.

I pull away. "Someone could be watching."

He laughs. "So what? Let them enjoy. Besides, who could be watching us right now?" Oh, I don't know, maybe Secret Service Agents who report to the President of the United States on a constant basis.

Instead, I shrug. "How long can you hold your breath under water?" I ask, trying to change the subject. I can literally feel Reynold's eyes boring into my back. But I refuse to turn.

He smirks and dips his head under. After 15 seconds has passed, I make sure he isn't dead before resurfacing again. After a long moment, he pops his head back up.

"Wait! I didn't count it!"

He laughs. "Okay now you're just trying to kill me."

"Scared?" I challenge.

"Of course not."

I cock my head, noticing something black on his upper arm. "What's this?"

I lean in close and realize it's a tattoo of a pair of fangs.

He doesn't say anything for a moment. "It's just... something I got from my time in the gang."

"Hmm," I note. "It's cute."

"Cute?" He scoffs.

I laugh. "Yes, cute."

He shakes his head. "Whatever. Count it." He dips his head back down. I suspect it's because he doesn't want to talk about it. This time, I swim away close to the shoreline so he can find trouble looking for me.

"Hey, excuse me!" Someone yells behind me. It's too dark to distinguish her face. I step out the of water and move closer.

"Yeah."

Her eyes widen. "Oh my God. Hope Madison!" She's laughing now and I shift on my feet uncomfortably.

"My friends are going to freak out!" Heat rushes up to my cheeks. "Anyways, there's a weird man over there and he wants to ask you something. Probably a reporter or something." She lets out a small laugh. I look behind her to see a tall man standing way too far to see his face. And yet I know it's Reynolds.

"Okay thanks..." I say, gathering my things. A nervous tremor run up my stomach as I think of the possible reasons why he might need me. It must be urgent if he's sending someone to get me. I silently thank him for not dragging me out the water himself.

"Anyways, it was nice meeting you!" Her teeth shines in the dark.

"Likewise." I smile back at her before she runs back to her group of friends. I sling my bag with a towel and phone on my shoulder and run to Reynolds. He grabs my arm as soon as I reach him.

"We need to go." His tone is clipped and short. He's dragging me and I have to run to keep up with his long legs. 

"What's going on?"

He doesn't answer me. When we reach the car and climb in, I ask him again.

"Is dad okay? Is mom?" My stomach dips low.

"They're fine. We just need to get to the House."

***

"Command, we have Golden Sparrow. I repeat, we have Golden Sparrow," Reynolds says into a mic as the car speeds way too fast down the street. I frown. Golden Sparrow is a code name I had chosen for myself when we first came to the House. I wonder why they'd be using it now, unless it was an emergency.

It isn't until we arrive that I notice that I'm still in my bathing suit. I'm sure my body has soaked the seat by now, but I can't concentrate enough to make sure. And then I realize that I left Damien holding his breath underwater.

It's at this moment that I know, I know something is terribly wrong when the car pulls up to 1600 Pennsylvania Ave. Through the convoy windows, I can see a police motorcade and Secret Service caravan lining the street. Secret Service detail and the Emergency Response Team dressed in black tactical clothing moving with rifles drawn swarm the grounds. I back up in my seat in fear when a few break off and approach our car.

"It's okay," I hear Sarah's voice. "We should run." We empty out the car and it's when I notice that they're covering our every move as we run towards the White House. My vision is blocked by more Secret Service who has joined us and are running by my sides. Adrenaline and terror fills my veins as I run at full speed to keep up with their long legs, fear of being trampled brimming at the back of my head. Reynolds grabs my hand again, now sweaty, as we run past the securities and into the north door.

Even when we enter, we keep running, the noise level increasing as we run further in. I try to ask them questions but my words are lost amidst the commotion. I don't realize I'm crying until I hear a strangled sob escape my throat.

"Command, Golden Sparrow has entered the House," Reynolds says into a mic before they lead me down the Entrance Hall and through a series of hallways in the East Wing.

When we reach the end of the hallway, Reynolds pushes his thumb on a keypad on a wall. It beeps and a green light scans the screen of the keypad and suddenly the wall slides to the right, revealing another door. And a pattern continues as we pass through several vault-like doors with biometric access control systems. We finally enter a small space before Reynolds pushes his thumb yet again and the door slides open to reveal an elevator. Reynolds practically pushes me inside. I'm shaking at this point, too scared to ask again, to demand the truth.

Because something was definitely wrong.

Built to withstand a nuclear attack, the PEOC bunker, or the Presidential Emergency Operations Center, is a secure shelter and communications center in times of emergency. It was built for President Roosevelt during WWII. No way would I be going down there unless this is an emergency. "Golden Sparrow, downward mobile," Reynolds speaks to the mic as the elevator doors shuts with a loud hiss. I can't see, my vision blinded by tears and my hands shaking terribly as an overwhelming swarm of Secret Service Agents crowd around me.

I dig my fingernails into my palms to stop it from shaking ,but it doesn't work. I can feel the heat on my neck, the sweat on my forehead, the throbbing in my neck, I can feel it all too well. The silence in the elevator is interrupted by an occasional sob escaping my throat. I feel a hand on my shoulder but I can't tell who it is. It's taking too long. Too long. My stomach contorts in anticipation as the elevator makes it way 9 stories below to the bunker (though the number is classified). I know whatever is waiting for me down there would be a nightmare.

The elevator finally stops and the door opens. I am guided by a hand and together we run down the long corridor and turn left. I feel a tingling pressure and my legs are about to give way when we approach a door. "Seal this room." Reynolds instruct. I am pushed inside and the door closes behind me.

The room is well lit against the long table and chrome walls, and it takes a second to realize several people are looking at me. I find my mom pacing until she finally notices my presence. She runs towards me and wrap her arms tightly around me. My arms start to tingle again and I can feel a panic attack coming.

"Is Daddy..." I whisper shakily against her chest.

She pulls from the embrace and lowers herself to look me in the eye. Her eye is blotchy and red and her voice hoarse as she says the worst thing I'll ever hear in my entire life, "He was shot, sweetie. Daddy's been shot."

*****

A/N: My favorite chapter so far. What's yours?

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