I lasted twelve minutes alone in Damien Vale’s penthouse before I started snooping.
In my defense, the place practically begged to be investigated.
Everything in the penthouse felt sharp-edged and expensive. Black marble floors. Dark timber. Gold accents subtle enough to whisper wealth instead of scream it.
It was beautiful.
Cold, though.
Not empty.
Just… untouched.
Like nobody truly lived here.
I wandered slowly through the massive living space while dawn bled silver across Ashbourne beyond the windows. Elysian Heights glittered below like a kingdom built for people who had never struggled a day in their lives.
And somewhere beneath all of it sat the Black Quarter.
Damien’s shadow.
My stomach tightened thinking about him there.
Violence fit him too naturally.
That should have
