Katrina ’s POV
The air in the penthouse was sharp when I opened the door, colder than it should have been.
It wasn’t just the temperature. It was the emptiness. The silence. The soft hum of the security systems, the faint hiss of the elevator shaft waiting to be called—sounds that had always reminded me I was inside Damon’s fortress. Protected. Possessed.
Tonight, those same sounds mocked me.
My hand clutched the folded note in my coat pocket. Its edges cut faintly into my palm with every squeeze, reminding me of what I was about to do.
Warehouse Nine. Midnight.
The words pulsed like a second heartbeat.
Every instinct screamed to go back. To crawl into bed before Damon noticed I was gone, to bury my face against his chest, to lie through my teeth if I had to. To confess and beg for
