Ophelia’s POV:
I swallowed hard, the lump in my throat feeling like a jagged stone. I refused to let my voice tremble. I was done being the trembling rabbit.
"I went to meet Ilya," I said, forcing myself to stand straighter. I braced my shoulders, meeting his gaze.
Damon’s reaction was immediate. He clenched his fists, took a deep, shuddering breath, before his fingers raked through his dark hair, ruffling the locks into a chaotic mess. He paced a short line in the narrow corridor, before whirling back to face me.
"Why?" he barked.
I felt a spark of genuine anger catch in my chest. I scoffed, the sound sharp and bitter in the quiet hallway. "Why?" I repeated, my voice rising just enough to be dangerous. "Damon, look at me. You aren't my captor. I’m not your Omega. Stop talking to me l
