Elira stared across the room like she was standing in a war zone.
Except this battlefield had no blood, no gunfire—just secrets.
And Valencia’s smile was the bomb.
“Well,” Valencia purred, walking further into the kitchen like she’d just walked onto a stage. “This is cozy.”
Elira tightened her grip on the mug in her hands. It was empty, but it felt like the only solid thing left in her grasp.
Damien didn’t move. Not toward Elira. Not toward Valencia. He stood still, jaw tight, eyes locked on the woman he had once promised the world to.
“I told you not to come here,” Damien growled.
“And I always loved when you tried to control me,” Valencia replied, eyes glinting as she turned her attention back to Elira. “So, you’re the one.”
Elira’s voice was steady—ice wrapped in velvet. “The on
