The wind whispered through the grand hallways of Damian’s mansion, curling like a ghost around Elena as she stood by the tall window, arms wrapped tightly around her body. The sun was beginning to fall, casting a soft gold hue over the driveway where Damian’s men once stood in straight, unbroken lines.
Now… half of them were gone.
She had seen it. Heard the bullets, the screaming. Smelled the smoke. The images still clawed at her mind at night. But what haunted her more than the blood and fire was the man who dragged her out of hell—Damian.
He had changed. Or maybe, she was only just now seeing who he really was behind the cold mask he wore.
Damian hadn't just rescued her.
He had avenged her.
The killers responsible for Marissa's death were now rotting in the ground, each one silence
