Loving Damien Vale felt a little like standing too close to lightning.
Beautiful.
Warm.
And one wrong movement away from destruction.
Three days after the fire, Ashbourne looked different to me.
Or maybe I looked different to it.
The city still glittered beneath endless rain. Elysian Heights still shone gold above the harbor while the Black Quarter lurked beneath it like a bruise under expensive skin.
But now I understood what power really looked like here.
It looked like silence after threats.
Like armed men outside elevators.
Like politicians pretending not to see blood in the streets because Damien Vale paid enough people to keep the city breathing.
And somehow…
despite knowing all of that…
I still loved him.
Which either made me loyal or deeply unwell.
Possibly both.
I
