Damian POV
If someone told me the scariest thing I’d witness all week wasn’t a bloodsucker with fangs bared, but a human girl bleeding from her center in a bathrobe—I’d have laughed in their face.
I ain’t laughing now.
Nope.
I’m standing half-shifted, fists bruised from punching that undead bastard, when Viktor explodes like a damn nuke in lace-trimmed rage. Her voice? Sharp. Loud. Furious. The kind of furious that stops you cold and makes your balls shrivel in self-defense.
But I’m not looking at her.
Not really.
I mean, yeah—she’s the one yelling, stomping, pointing like she’s casting a damn curse—but my eyes are locked on him.
Lucian.
Prince of the bloodsuckers. The cold-hearted heir with a jaw carved from stone and a soul dipped in tar.
And right now?
He’s unraveling.
I swe
