Damon’s POV
The leather beneath my palms was beginning to feel hot, the still air in the car stifling as I drummed my fingers impatiently on the steering wheel. For almost an hour, I’d been waiting. Waiting like some obedient pup who’d been told to stay put.
Lana had asked me not to interfere, not to shadow her every step tonight. I’d agreed, reluctantly, but every passing minute clawed at my patience. She was in there, in that lounge, amidst people I didn’t trust, and I was outside, acting powerless, respecting her wishes.
Finally, my restraint snapped. I shoved the door open and stepped out, the night breeze hitting my face as I pulled out my phone. My thumb found Dave’s name and hit call.
The line clicked, and his voice came through, lazy and amused. “Alpha Damon. To what do I owe
