Damien sat in the back seat, the leather groaning quietly beneath him, jaw clenched as the city lights streaked past. Davis drove in tense silence, eyes flicking repeatedly to the rear-view mirror.
“Did you see the news?” Davis finally asked, voice low.
“I did,” Damien replied, expression unreadable.
“I’ve already called for extra guards,” Davis added. “For you… and for Emma.”
A muscle ticked in Damien’s jaw, but he only nodded once.
As the car turned into the long private road leading to the Rodriguez mansion—home carved from generations of power—they saw it.
A sea of paparazzi.
Hundreds of them. Cameras, microphones, drones—flashing, clicking, shouting.
“Holy hell,” Davis muttered. “They multiplied.”
The moment the car slowed, the wave crashed.
“That’s Davis Rodriguez!”
“The g
