Calla stood at the edge of Damian’s private garden, the place where silence often offered comfort—but tonight, it echoed with unease. The moonlight painted her in silver, but she felt anything but calm. Her heart pounded in her chest like a prisoner trying to escape.
She wasn’t running anymore. Not from him. Not from herself.
“Calla.” His voice cut through the stillness.
She turned. Damian stood a few feet away, his tie loosened, shirt sleeves rolled up, tension carved deep into every line of his face. The wind tugged at his hair, but it was the storm in his eyes that caught her breath.
“I didn’t expect you to come,” he said softly.
“Then you don’t know me at all,” she replied, walking toward him until only a sliver of moonlight separated them. “We’re done dancing around the truth, Da
