Lana’s POV
The soft rise and fall of Damon’s breathing was the only sound in the dimly lit suite. I lay beside him, wrapped in the duvet and the heat of his body, but my mind wouldn’t settle. The day kept replaying—not as terror, but as something startlingly clear.
I kept seeing his face when he’d watched that horrible video earlier—how his expression hadn’t twisted in disgust or curiosity, but gone still and lethal. He hadn’t looked at me like a victim or an object. He’d looked at a crime that needed to be destroyed. That stillness had shaken me more than anything.
Then another memory surfaced—last week at the meeting with the elders, when I’d felt cornered. Damon had stood beside me like a silent wall, not loud or dramatic, just unwavering. His belief in me had been louder than any s
