Katrina’s POV
I didn’t recognize myself anymore.
I sat curled on the edge of Damon’s bed, arms wrapped tight around my knees, staring out at the city that glittered beneath the penthouse windows. Towering glass and steel stretched into the night, but none of it felt real. Not after what I’d seen.
The chamber.
The fists.
The blood.
Lucas’s eyes when Damon struck him—they would haunt me forever. Not because he was innocent. Not because he didn’t deserve punishment. But because once, long ago, I had trusted him. Because part of me had still wanted to believe he would save me, even when everything in me screamed it was a lie.
And when Damon nearly killed him, I had begged. I had pleaded for his life.
And Damon had listened.
The memory cut like glass. Because for every shiver of horror
