Damien stood in the middle of the penthouse living room still in disbelief, phone still in his hand, staring at the tracking dot blinking on the screen.
Victor’s house, he thought to himself again, like it was all some kind of dream.
Of course it was Victor’s f*****g house.
He had told Elena not to go. She had promised. And now she was there alone, after lying to him about meeting Sofia. The betrayal stung sharper than he wanted to admit, but right now, anger wasn’t useful. Cold focus was.
He walked to the bar cart, poured himself a glass of whiskey, and took a slow sip. His hand didn’t shake. His breathing stayed even. But inside, something dark and familiar uncoiled the part of him he had tried to bury since Elena came into his life.
He made another call.
“Blackwood,” a gravelly vo
