Damon’s POV
The morning sunlight streamed through the pack house windows, its warmth doing little to thaw the knot of tension in my chest. I leaned against the kitchen counter, nursing my second bourbon-spiked coffee of the day—a habit Aria pretended not to notice and Tabitha refused to shut up about.
Stress was a constant companion lately. Between keeping the pack secure, figuring out how to handle this dagger nonsense, and Drake—Drake, who’d been acting like a damned stranger—I was on edge. But today? Today I was determined to step back from the chaos and focus on Aria.
“Hey,” her voice broke through my thoughts, soft and grounding. I turned to see her standing in the doorway, looking impossibly delicate. Her usual glow was dimmed, her face paler than it should’ve been. It didn’t sit
