Damon's POV
I parked the car not far from her building.
I half-leaned against the door and looked up at the lit windows of her apartment.
Pain stung my fingertip.
I dropped the burned-out cigarette and ground it under my shoe. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the scratches on the back of my hand ... from when I'd shoved that kitten into the box and it fought back. The blood had already dried.
"Good riddance," I muttered. "One less problem to deal with." Like her. Both of them showed up out of nowhere, caused nothing but trouble, then acted like I was the bad guy.
You really feel better now? I doubt it, Rhein said lazily, his tail swishing calmly.
You deserved it. The cat was fine where it was, yet you had to drag it out. Of course it scratched you.
I ignored him, pulled out a cig
