The storm finally broke that night,
not in the sky,
but in Damian’s eyes.
Elena had never seen him like this. Not even on the night he dragged her into his world the first time. He stood in the middle of the penthouse living room, shoulders tight, head lowered slightly as if he were listening to something only he could hear.
Then the phone rang.
Not the usual buzz of his encrypted cell, but the sharp metallic ring of the private line he only answered when the situation was dire.
He snatched it up so quickly the table shook. Silence followed, thick, suffocating. Elena watched, breath caught in her chest.
Damian’s face hardened.
Every muscle in his body went rigid.
The air around him seemed to crackle.
“Where?” he asked, his voice low, dangerous, too calm. The kind of calm predato
