Stay Away From Her
1059 Words
Damien Cross — POV
“It makes everyone around her dangerous.”
The words settled heavily between us.
My father watched me carefully, reading every reaction the way he always did.
Calculating.
Analyzing.
Looking for weakness.
And right now—
Luna was becoming one.
“She’s innocent,” I said calmly.
“Innocent people die every day.”
My jaw tightened.
“That won’t happen to her.”
My father’s expression remained unreadable.
“You sound confident.”
“I am.”
A quiet silence followed.
Then he walked past me slowly, pouring himself a drink like we weren’t discussing someone’s life.
“She knows who you are now?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“And she stayed.”
That irritated me more than it should have.
“She didn’t stay for me.”
“No?” His eyes lifted toward me again. “Then why is she still here?”
I didn’t answer.
Because I didn’t fully know.
Fear.
Exhaustion.
Confusion.
Maybe all three.
My father set the glass down carefully.
“You’ve changed since meeting her.”
“No, I haven’t.”
“You’re protecting emotionally instead of strategically.”
That hit closer than I liked.
Because part of it was true.
I was making decisions differently.
Reacting differently.
And that was dangerous.
Not for me.
For her.
“You need distance,” my father continued.
“She’s safer away from you.”
The moment he said that, something cold settled inside me.
“No.”
The word came immediately.
Firm.
Certain.
His eyes narrowed slightly.
Interesting.
He noticed that reaction.
Of course he did.
“And if she becomes a liability?”
“She won’t.”
“You sound attached.”
Silence.
Then—
“I’m handling this,” I said sharply.
My father studied me for a long moment before speaking again.
“You were always excellent at control, Damien.”
A pause.
“But emotions destroy control.”
---
Luna Hart — POV
I couldn’t sleep.
Again.
The room was quiet, but my mind wasn’t.
Everything kept replaying over and over.
The attack.
The gunshots.
The blood on Damien’s arm.
His father knowing about me.
Nothing felt real anymore.
I walked toward the window slowly, pulling the curtain aside slightly.
The property outside was heavily guarded.
Of course it was.
People moved around quietly below.
Security.
Protection.
Or imprisonment.
I still hadn’t decided which one this was.
A soft knock interrupted my thoughts.
Before I could answer, the door opened slightly.
Damien stepped inside.
His expression looked calmer now.
But his eyes—
Still tense.
“You should be resting,” he said quietly.
I crossed my arms.
“So should you.”
His gaze shifted briefly toward the bandage now wrapped around his arm.
“It’s fine.”
“You keep saying that.”
Because he did.
About everything.
Pain.
Danger.
Fear.
Everything was always “fine.”
Even when it clearly wasn’t.
Silence settled between us again.
This time, it felt different.
Less hostile.
More exhausted.
“Your mother is asleep,” he said after a moment. “She’s safe.”
Relief softened something inside me immediately.
“Can I see her tomorrow?”
“Yes.”
Simple.
Direct.
No argument.
That surprised me slightly.
I looked at him carefully.
“You really had people watching my apartment?”
“Yes.”
“Without telling me.”
“Yes.”
I shook my head slowly.
“That’s still insane.”
“It kept you alive.”
There it was again.
That answer.
And the frustrating part?
I couldn’t even argue anymore.
Because tonight proved him right.
I hated that.
“You know,” I said quietly, “before I met you, my life made sense.”
His expression shifted slightly.
“And now?”
I laughed softly, but there was no humor in it.
“Now I don’t even know who’s watching me anymore.”
Something dark flickered briefly across his face.
“They’ll be dealt with.”
The coldness in his voice made me look at him differently again.
Sometimes I forgot who he really was.
Then moments like this reminded me immediately.
Power.
Danger.
Control.
“You talk like you can fix everything,” I whispered.
His eyes met mine fully.
“No,” he said quietly.
“Just the things that threaten you.”
My breath caught slightly.
The room suddenly felt too quiet.
Too small.
I looked away first.
Because I didn’t know what to do with the way those words affected me.
---
Damien Cross — POV
She doesn’t realize it yet.
But she’s already becoming dangerous to me too.
Not because of enemies.
Because of distraction.
Emotion.
Attachment.
Things I learned long ago to avoid.
And yet—
Here I am.
Standing in her room at almost midnight making sure she feels safe enough to sleep.
Ridiculous.
“You should rest,” I said again.
This time her voice softened slightly.
“You keep saying that like sleep is possible.”
Fair.
I turned toward the door.
Then paused.
“Luna.”
She looked up immediately.
For a second, neither of us spoke.
Then—
“My father may try speaking to you tomorrow.”
Suspicion immediately returned to her expression.
“Why?”
“Because he doesn’t trust people easily.”
“And you do?”
The question almost made me smile.
Almost.
“No.”
At least that answer was honest.
She studied me quietly.
Then finally asked the question I knew was coming.
“Should I be afraid of him?”
Silence.
Because the truthful answer?
Probably.
“He’s not someone you should underestimate,” I said carefully.
Her chest rose slowly with a quiet breath.
“And you?”
My gaze held hers steadily.
“You already underestimate me.”
---
The moment Damien left the room, Luna sat back slowly against the bed.
Her heart felt strangely unsteady.
Because despite everything—
The danger.
The lies.
The fear.
Part of her still felt safer whenever he was near.
And that scared her more than anything else.
Downstairs, Damien’s father watched the security footage silently.
His cold eyes rested on Luna’s image on the screen.
Then—
“You’re getting attached,” he said quietly to himself.
A pause.
Then his expression darkened slightly.
“That could become a problem.”
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