Katrina’s POV
I could feel it before I saw it—the shift in the air, the way Damon’s movements had grown sharper these past few days, like the world was gnawing at him and he was too proud to bleed. His empire was cracking, and no one dared to say it out loud. Not Lorna. Not the servants. Certainly not me.
But cracks have a way of whispering, even through silence.
That morning, I woke to the sound of Damon’s voice slicing through the penthouse. It wasn’t his usual control—measured, precise, deadly. It was raw. A shout. Then another. Glass broke somewhere down the hall, followed by the heavy tread of his boots against marble.
I slipped from the bed, my bare feet cold against the floor, wrapping one of his shirts around my body like armor. From the living room, I could hear Lorna’s calm v
