Katrina’s POV
I woke to the weight of his arm across my waist. Heavy, unyielding, warm. Damon’s breathing was steady against the back of my neck, a rhythm too calm for the storm I carried inside me. His body pressed into mine as if to remind me, even in sleep, that I belonged to him.
The pillow smelled faintly of his cologne—smoke and cedar, power and steel. I hated the way I drew it in anyway, lungs desperate for it, even as the hidden paper beneath my pillow burned against my fingertips.
Cassian’s words, scrawled in elegant, merciless handwriting, were louder than Damon’s heartbeat.
Tomorrow. Midnight. Warehouse Nine.
But tomorrow was no longer tomorrow. It was today.
I shut my eyes tight, fighting the panic climbing up my throat. Damon shifted in his sleep, pulling me closer, as i
