The silence in the penthouse after Marcus leaves is not peaceful. It pulses. It seethes. It coils itself around Damian like a living thing. He stands in the middle of the room, hands clenched so tightly I can see the tendons pressing against his skin. His breath is sharp. Controlled only because he is forcing it to be.
He looks like a man standing on the edge of a cliff he has stared at for a very long time, and for the first time, he is considering stepping off.
“Damian,” I say softly.
He does not turn.
His shoulders rise with a slow inhale. His voice is quiet, but beneath it there is something trembling. “I cannot let him keep doing this. I cannot let him get close to you again. Every instinct I have is telling me to end him before he gets another chance.”
The words are almost gentl
