The city looked different in daylight, colder and less forgiving.
I stood by the floor-to-ceiling windows of Damian's penthouse, watching the streets below. Paedestrian hurried by, oblivious to the fact that hours ago, armed men had circled this very building, ready to kill.
Maybe people were always like that. Blind to the wars being waged just out of sight.
I envied them.
Behind me, the soft murmur of voices carried from the study. Damian and Charlotte, locked in another tense conversation. I could hear the clipped edges of his voice, the sharp bite in hers. Neither of them was sleeping. None of us were.
I wrapped my arms around myself, exhaustion weighing heavy, but sleep felt impossible.
The door opened behind me.
I didn't turn.
I didn't have to.
I could feel him.
Damian crossed the room without a word, stopping a few feet away. I could see his reflection in the glass — the cut along his jaw, a bruise forming beneath one eye. He looked dangerous and exhausted and entirely unshaken.
"How are you holding up?" he asked quietly.
I considered lying.
But what was the point?
"I keep waiting for it to sink in," I murmured. "That someone was out there, watching me and planning something far from her imagination."
He was silent for a beat. Then, "It won't. Not for a while."
I turned, leaning back against the window. "This life of yours… how do you survive it without losing everything that makes you human?"
His eyes didn't leave mine. "You don't."
The words settled between us like a weight.
And then, just like that, Charlotte appeared in the doorway.
Her expression was grim.
"We have a problem," she announced.
Damian straightened. "Another one?"
She crossed the room, tossing a file onto the coffee table.
"Background checks on our internal security. The guys manning the perimeter last night. Two names didn't match up."
Damian's jaw tightened. "Meaning?"
"Meaning someone on our payroll's been bought."
The air in the room shifted.
I felt my stomach twist.
This wasn't just a threat from outside anymore.
It was coming from within.
"Who?" Damian demanded.
Charlotte hesitated. "We're still confirming, but my money is on Curtis. He took over night shifts two weeks ago — right around when those surveillance photos of Ava would've been taken."
I felt my blood run cold.
Curtis...The guard who always nodded at me with that too-polite smile. The one who always held the elevator. Who'd known my floor, my schedule.
I hadn't even noticed.
Damian cursed under his breath. "Find him."
Charlotte nodded and slipped out.
I sank onto the couch, heart pounding.
"Is this how it works?" I asked. "People you trust one day turn into threats the next?"
He crouched beside me, eyes dark. "In this world, loyalty is a currency. And someone's always willing to pay more."
A bitter laugh escaped me. "Then why keep anyone close at all?"
His gaze softened. "Because some things… some people… are worth the risk."
It shouldn't have made my pulse stutter. But it did.
His hand brushed against mine for half a second before he pulled back.
The room felt too small again.
"Damian—" I started, but a sharp sound from his phone cut me off.
He glanced at the screen, his expression darkening.
"Another problem?" I asked, my voice tight.
He stood. "The precinct just released Vaughn's personal effects. There's a flash drive. No one's cracked it yet."
"What do you think is on it?"
His jaw flexed. "Names, Accounts. Maybe orders for whoever's still moving against us. Whatever it is, it's leverage."
He crossed the room, grabbed his jacket, then paused.
"You're staying here," he ordered.
I was already shaking my head. "No. You said yourself — this is about me too."
"Ava—"
"Unless you plan on locking me back in that safe room, I'm coming."
For a moment, his expression was unreadable.
Then, to my surprise, he gave a small, reluctant nod. "Fine. But you stay by me. No heroics."
A part of me wanted to argue.
The smarter part stayed silent.
Because after last night, I knew one thing for certain.
I wasn't walking away from this. Not until I knew how deep it went. Not until I'd buried the ones who thought they could use me as a pawn.
Not until I had answers.
And maybe not even then.
The ride to the precinct was silent.
Not the kind of silence that feels comfortable or empty — the kind that hums with unspoken things....Tension. Questions neither of us wanted to ask because we already knew the answers would amount to more fears.
Damian drove like a man who didn't fear death. Fast, sharp turns, barely pausing at lights. His hands clenched, one hand on the wheel, the other gripping the gearshift hard enough to turn his knuckles white.
I didn't say a word.
I should've. Should've told him to slow down, should've asked what he planned to do with whoever was left behind Vaughn's betrayal.
Instead, I sat there, heart pounding, because part of me didn't want to stop him.
Part of me understood.
The precinct was a concrete box, the kind of place where the walls still reeked of old sweat and colder secrets. The officers barely made eye contact when Damian walked in, which told me all I needed to know about how much power he held — even here.
Charlotte was already waiting in the back lot, a flash drive in one hand, a gun in the other.
"Clean handoff," she said, offering the drive. "No tails. But this thing's encrypted six ways to hell."
Damian took it without a word.
She glanced at me. "You sure about dragging her into this part?"
"I'm standing right here, you know," I snapped.
Charlotte smirked. "Good. Keep that energy. You'll need it."
We piled back into the car, and this time, I grabbed Damian's wrist before he could start the engine.
His eyes met mine, something that couldn't be understood or read easily.
"You can't keep freezing me out," I said quietly. "Not after last night. Not after everything."
A muscle ticked in his jaw. "Ava—"
"I'm not asking for promises, Damian. I just… I need to know where I stand."
The silence stretched tight between us.
Then, finally, his hand slid from the gearshift to mine, rough fingers curling around my palm.
"I don't want you in this," he said hoarsely. "Because the longer you're in, the harder it's gonna be to let you go."
My breath thickened.
For a man who could snap orders and break bones without flinching, he looked… terrified. Not of death. Not of enemies.
Of me.
Or maybe what I made him feel.
Neither of us spoke as he lifted my hand to his lips, brushing the barest ghost of a kiss against my knuckles.
It wasn't a real kiss.
But it was a promise. Or a warning.
And maybe both.
Back at the penthouse, the room was darker than it should've been for midday. Damian went straight to the secure computer, slotting the flash drive in.
Charlotte hovered behind him. I stayed by the window, watching the reflection of his face — sharp, tense, drawn.
The screen blinked.
A string of files appeared.
Most were coded numbers. Transaction logs. Names of shell companies.
But one folder sat at the bottom.
"PERSONAL."
Damian clicked it open.
A video file waited inside.
He didn't hesitate.
The grainy footage filled the screen — Vaughn, sitting in a dimly lit room. His face battered. A man's voice asked questions from offscreen, cold and clipped.
Names…..
Routes…..
Codes….
Then — my name.
I felt my head heavy as Vaughn flinched.
"She doesn't know anything," Vaughn said, blood on his teeth. "I swear. The girl is clean."
"That's not the point," the voice said. "She's leverage."
Damian's hand tightened around the mouse.
The video cut to black.
I swallowed hard, my voice shaking. "That… that voice. Did you recognize it?"
Charlotte's face paled. "Yeah."
Damian nodded grimly. "Jonas Mercer."
The name meant nothing to me, but judging by the tension in the room, it should have.
Charlotte blew out a breath. "Jonas used to work for you."
Damian's expression darkened. "He was my father's enforcer. Handled the dirty jobs when even I wouldn't touch them. I fired him three years ago when he went too far."
Charlotte looked sick. "He's back."
The pieces were falling into place.
Too fast. Too sharp.
"Why would he come after me?" I whispered.
Damian crossed the room, cupping my face between his hands.
"You're not just leverage anymore, Ava."
His voice was hard, low.
"You're the one thing they know I'll bleed for."
The words punched the air from my lungs.
I hated how much I wanted to believe him. How part of me craved the heat in his touch, the storm in his gaze.
And before I could stop myself, I leaned into him.
His thumb traced my cheekbone.
Neither of us moved.
I could feel the tension stretching, one wrong word from snapping.
But Charlotte cleared her throat, and the moment broke.
"We need a plan," she muttered. "And backup."
Damian's jaw flexed, but he didn't pull away from me. Not right away.
He was still holding on.
And so was I.
Because in that single, terrifying second, we both knew something had changed.
This wasn't survival anymore.
It wasn't proximity.
It wasn't coincidence.
It was personal.
And it was dangerous.
For both of us.