Aria couldn’t sleep.
The folder haunted her. Her sister’s name, printed in cold ink, felt like a scream trapped on paper. She’d come here for answers, but now the questions were multiplying.
Why was Elena listed? What did “chosen” mean? And why did Damian Voss look at her like he knew more than he’d ever admit?
She found him in the rooftop lounge alone, staring out at the city like it owed him something.
“You followed me,” he said without turning.
“You left the door open.”
He glanced at her then, eyes tired but sharp. “You shouldn’t be here.”
“You keep saying that. But I am.”
A pause. Then he gestured to the seat beside him.
She sat.
The silence between them stretched, heavy with things unsaid.
“I didn’t know about your sister until it was too late,” he said finally.
Aria’s throat tightened. “You expect me to believe that?”
“No. I expect you to hate me.”
She looked at him, really looked. The man everyone feared.The man who carried ghosts in his eyes.
“I don’t hate you,” she said. “Not yet.”
He turned to her, something raw flickering across his face.
“I don’t want you to disappear.”
Aria’s breath caught.
Neither of them moved.
But something between them did.