Damian's POV
I stared at my phone for the hundredth time that day, jaw clenched so tight it ached.
Still nothing from her.
Five days. Five goddamn days since I'd left for the border, and Aria hadn't sent a single text. Not one "travel safe" or "how's it going" or even a basic "hey."
Nothing.
My fingers tightened around the phone until the screen protested with a faint crack.
*"Just s*x. No big deal."*
Her words from that night kept replaying in my head like a broken record. The casual way she'd said it. The dismissive shrug. Like what happened between us meant nothing more than scratching an itch.
Was that really all it was to her? Did she treat everyone like that—let them into her bed, into her body, then act like it didn't matter the next day?
The thought mad
