Damien’s gaze darkened, hardening in a way that made the air between them tighten. His hand stayed at her jaw, firm, grounding, yet his eyes held that dangerous glint she knew too well.
“The last person who chose me…” His voice dropped low, almost a growl, “ended up dead.”
Her breath hitched, heart pounding. She knew who he meant—Cassandra. The one whose death haunted Damien, the one whose loss had cast long, dark shadows over his life.
Her death had become his curse, a chain that kept his own happiness just out of reach and kept him squarely under Viktor Volkov’s watchful eye—the very reason Volkov never let him be.
And yet, he didn’t let go. He leaned closer, letting the warning hang between them, heavy and real.
“I’m not saying this to scare you, love,” he murmured, softer now, the
