Aria's POV
On the morning of the fourth day, I woke to find Damian already up and dressed, standing by the window with his arms crossed.
The bruises on his face had faded to a dull yellow, and the stitches above his eyebrow were barely visible.
He still moved carefully—his ribs were clearly still tender—but the difference from three days ago was staggering.
Wolves healed fast. I knew that intellectually. But seeing it in person was something else entirely.
"You're up early," I said, pushing myself into a sitting position.
"I'm going back to Capital." His voice was calm, matter-of-fact. Like he hadn't just dropped a bomb in the middle of the room.
I blinked. "What?"
"I got through to Rick last night. I called a number I hadn't touched in twenty years—one no one ali
