Katrina’s POV
The penthouse door slammed behind me with a sound that echoed like a verdict.
Damon’s hand gripped my upper arm, iron cold, and yanked me forward. Every step I took felt measured, deliberate, as though the marble floor itself whispered under his control.
“You think defiance is cute?” His voice was low, a growl hiding just beneath the surface of control. “You think I will let this slide?”
I tried to jerk free, to twist away, but the strength in his grip was a cage all on its own. My pulse raced—not entirely from fear. Every brush of his fingers against my skin sent sparks up my spine, a betrayal I loathed even as it scorched my nerves.
“I—” I began, but he silenced me with a hard press of his hand against my back, shoving me forward.
“Not a word,” he said. “Not until I
