I barely slept.
Every time I closed my eyes, flashes of the night returned. Vaughn's blood-streaked face. The sound of gunfire cracking through the dark. Damian's voice — low, raw, ordering me to stay down.
And his hand brushing that stray strand of hair from my face. I could still feel it, like a phantom touch.
By the time the first light of dawn crept through the floor-to-ceiling windows, I'd abandoned the idea of sleep entirely. I wrapped myself in one of Damian's oversized hoodies that hung in the guest room closet, the scent of his cologne still clinging to the fabric.
Why that calmed me, I didn't know.
I stepped out into the penthouse, the glass and steel fortress still quiet. The kind of silence that only came after blood had been spilled.
Charlotte sat at the kitchen island, nursing a cup of coffee, eyes shadowed with exhaustion. She looked up as I approached.
"Couldn't sleep either, huh?" she said, her voice a bit loud.
I shook my head, sliding onto the stool beside her.
"How's Olivia?" I asked.
"Stable and resting." She hesitated. "Damian's been up all night, running damage control. Vaughn's death didn't make our problems disappear at all. If anything, it's made the city's underbelly hungrier."
I wasn't surprised at what she said.
There were always men like Vaughn. When one fell, another clawed their way up. That was the way of power.
"I need to find my father at all cost," I said quietly.
Charlotte sighed. "Ava—"
"I don't care what the risks are. He's out there. Vaughn didn't deny that, he admiitted it. And if Damian knows something, I want the truth. All of it."
She studied me for a moment, then nodded. "Good. About damn time you started fighting back."
A flicker of a smile touched my lips.
She stood, ruffling my hair as she passed. "Go get your answers, girl."
I didn't hesitate but left immediately.
I found Damian in his private study — a sleek, glass-walled room overlooking the city, filled with floor-to-ceiling bookshelves and a massive desk cluttered with monitors. He stood by the window, phone to his ear, issuing sharp orders in a voice so cold it could freeze oceans.
"No, I don't care what it costs," he snapped. "I want every trace of Vaughn's remaining men buried by the end of the week. No survivors."
His eyes flicked to me as I entered, a muscle ticking in his jaw. He finished the call and set the phone down.
"You should be resting," he said.
I crossed my arms. "I need answers."
A sigh. He dragged a hand through his hair, dark circles beneath his eyes. He looked like a man standing at the edge of a war he couldn't quite win — and yet he hadn't stepped back.
"Sit," he muttered.
I did.
He paced once, then dropped into the chair across from me.
"I should've told you sooner," he said quietly. "About your father. About Vaughn. About what this really is."
I said nothing, waiting.
"I knew your father," he continued, voice low. "Years ago. Before any of this. Before I built this empire. He was… one of the few men I trusted. Which in my world means something."
My throat tightened. "And then?"
"And then he crossed Vaughn. Exposed a shipment meant for a foreign buyer. Cost Vaughn millions. People died and Vaughn retaliated. Your father went into hiding. He sent you away to protect you."
I swallowed hard. "And you just… what? Stayed quiet?"
"I was young. I was building my own empire, surrounded by men twice my age who'd slit my throat for a dollar. I didn't have the power to stop Vaughn then like I do now."
The honesty in his voice chipped away at the fury I'd carried through the night.
"He's alive?" I whispered.
Damian nodded. "Last we heard, he went underground overseas. New identity. But Vaughn found traces of him. That's why he came back."
The weight of it settled in my chest. Years of believing my father was dead. Years of questions with no answers.
And now, this.
"I need to find him," I said, voice trembling.
"You will," Damian promised. "And I'll help you."
I met his gaze, the air between us thick again.
"You didn't have to protect me, Damian. Not like this."
His expression darkened. "I did. Because no matter how much I tried to stay away, you mattered to me long before I ever let myself admit it."
The confession landed hard.
I felt my pulse skip. The space between us felt charged, heavy with the weight of unspoken things. His gaze dropped briefly to my mouth, then back to my eyes.
My breath caught and neither of us moved.
And then, the door burst open.
"Sorry to interrupt the lovers' stare-off," Charlotte drawled, striding in. "But we've got a problem."
Damian's head snapped up. "What now?"
She tossed a manila envelope onto the desk.
"Just arrived…..No return address. Addressed to Ava."
My stomach turned.
Damian snatched it up, tearing it open. A single photograph slid out.
It was a picture of me.
Taken through the window of my old apartment, sitting at my desk. Unaware.
The timestamp read two weeks ago.
On the back, a single message was scrawled in blood-red ink.
You'll never be safe. Not while he's alive.
I felt my blood run cold.
Damian's jaw dropped. "How the hell did they get this close without us knowing?"
Charlotte cursed under her breath. "They're already in the city."
The implication was clear.
Vaughn might be dead, but his men were already moving to finish what he started.
And I was still their target.
Damian crossed the room in two strides, gripping my shoulders. "From now on, you don't leave this penthouse without me."
I should've argued.
I should've screamed but instead, I nodded.
Because for the first time, the weight of how dangerous this was fully settled into my bones.
They wouldn't stop.
And neither would I.