Dominic’s jaw tightened, his usual warmth replaced by steel. “He’s right. They’re already suspicious about you and Damien. Volkov knows he can’t touch Damien directly—so he’ll go after the one thing that would hurt him most. You.”
A heavy silence followed, the weight of his words sinking in like stone.
Then, almost imperceptibly, the air shifted. A quiet tension rippled through the garden—subtle but undeniable—as if even the night itself had taken a cautious step back.
Damien’s eyes went cold, steel replacing what little softness had been there. “They can try,” he said, low and steady. “I’ll die before I let that happen.”
His face set, every trace of warmth gone. “So they’re done hiding.”
“Seems so, sir,” Monroe replied, voice clipped but steady.
Damien leaned back, thumbs steepling
