Layla's pov
I woke up before dawn, the city outside still wrapped in darkness. The air felt heavy, like it had been waiting for me to move. Damian was already at his desk by the window, his face half-lit by the glow of his laptop. He hadn’t slept at all. Again.
I padded over in bare feet, wrapping my arms around his shoulders. “You should rest,” I whispered, even though I knew he wouldn’t.
He looked up at me with tired eyes. “I can’t, Layla. Not yet.” His voice was rough, the weight of too many battles pressing on his chest.
I pressed my lips to his temple. “Then let me help you. We can’t do this alone.” My voice trembled just a bit, but I refused to let fear rule me. Not anymore.
He closed his eyes and sighed. “We’re running out of time. Isabel’s not going to stop, and Alexander—he
