The moment Damian receives the confirmed sighting, the entire penthouse shifts. The air grows tense, charged with something electric and dangerous. His posture straightens into something unmistakably lethal. He moves to the office desk, taps the comms button and issues the order with calm efficiency.
“Wake the emergency team. Five men only. I want the tactical kits ready in fifteen minutes.”
The reply comes through immediately, crisp and obedient. “Yes, sir.”
I stand frozen, arms wrapped around myself, watching the transformation happening in front of me. This is not the obsessed version from earlier, hunched over screens and red circles. This is the cold strategist. The hunter. The one who knows exactly what he intends to do.
“Damian,” I whisper.
He does not answer. He opens a locked
