Lila’s heart slammed against her ribs.
She stared up at him, still sitting in the chair, his hand still brushing her hair back from her face.
The words didn’t make sense at first. Help him? After everything? After he had just told her he wanted to put a baby in her to hurt her father?
“I… I don’t understand,” she whispered. Her voice was still hoarse from crying earlier.
Her injured wrist throbbed in her lap. The cuts on her arm and leg stung under the bandages. She felt small in his shirt, bare legs cold against the chair.
Damien didn’t explain right away. He straightened up and walked around the desk. He picked up a phone and held it out to her.
The screen was already open to a video call. The contact name at the top made her stomach drop.
Victor Voss.
Her father.
Lila’s hands
