She swallowed, her gaze dropping to her hands as they fidgeted with the blanket in her lap. “What if…”
The weight of the name—Volkov—reintroducing the danger they had briefly managed to forget.
Damien sat up slowly, the mattress dipping beneath him. He didn’t speak. Instead, he reached for her, sliding an arm around her shoulders and pulling her firmly against his side.
Maya didn’t resist. She let her head rest against his chest, listening to the steady, grounding rhythm of his heart.
The heat of his skin felt like a silent promise — a temporary fortress against the what-ifs trying to pull her under.
“Volkov is a predator,” Damien said, his voice steady now, stripped of any trace of earlier playfulness. “And predators survive on predictability. He thinks he knows me.”
He pressed a ki
