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AUTHOR’S POV
The heavy oak doors to Vincein’s office burst open with a violent crash, the impact so forceful that the decorative glass panels rattled in their frames.
The quiet hum of the room was shattered, the low crackling of the fireplace and the faint clink of whiskey against ice suddenly drowned by the sheer force of Damon’s arrival.
He strode in like a storm—dark eyes ablaze, muscles coiled with fury, his fists clenched so tightly at his sides that his knuckles turned bone-white.
There was an undeniable intensity to him, the kind that made men take a step back without even realizing it.
But Vincein?
Vincein didn’t move.
Seated behind his grand mahogany desk, he merely lifted his gaze from the glass of whiskey in his hand and exhaled through his nose, amusement fli
