Aria's POV
Damon was pacing, his boots thudding softly against the hardwood floor. Typical Damon. Restless. Unyielding. I sat perched on the edge of the bed, my fingers clutching the edge of the mattress as I tried to process everything—the dagger, the whispers, the warnings. My wolf was just as restless, prowling in the back of my mind, sensing the storm brewing in the room.
“Damon,” I said finally, my voice cutting through his muttering. He stopped mid-step, turning to face me with dark eyes sharp and questioning. “Can you get me a glass of water?”
For a moment, I thought he was going to argue—he always had a knack for making the simplest things difficult—but he just gave a short nod and left the room. The door clicked shut behind him, and the tension lightened just a little.
I turne
