Damien's POV
The smoke rolled between my fingers in lazy spirals, the faint burn of tobacco burning in my throat as if it could scald away the heaviness sitting in my chest. I rarely smoked. Everyone knew that. It wasn’t habit, it wasn’t addiction, it was an outlet, something I only reached for when thoughts became too loud to ignore.
Today was one of those days.
The leather of the couch I sat on groaned under my weight as I sat on the armrest with one elbow resting on my knee, my jaw clenched so tightly it ached. The house was now quiet.
Because earlier behind one of those walls, Aurora’s cries had torn the silence apart.
I had heard her voice breaking, begging, shattering in pleasure and shame all at once. I had felt every echo of it pierce through me. I wanted to move, to break do
