The silence after Michael’s confession clung to the room like a heavy fog, thick enough to make breathing feel like work. Elena stood there, her fingers trembling at her sides, her chest rising and falling unevenly as she stared at him, really stared, as if she was seeing a stranger hidden inside someone she thought she had figured out.
Damian said nothing. He was too still… too calm… too quiet. That alone was enough to make fear bloom violently in the pit of Elena’s stomach.
Michael held Damian’s stare without flinching. “Say something,” he murmured, voice scratchy, almost exhausted. “I know you want to kill me, so just get on with it.”
Damian didn’t move. His jaw flexed once.
Elena stepped forward immediately. “Stop it, both of you. Michael, don’t provoke him.”
Michael’s eyes flicke
