The sterile smell of the hospital room was a stark contrast to the chaos of the rooftop incident. Bella lay on the bed, pale, bruised, and trembling, every shallow breath a reminder of how close she had come to death. Her eyes fluttered weakly, catching Damien’s dark, smoldering gaze as he refused to leave her side. He was a tempest contained within the hospital walls—obsessive, tense, dangerous—but utterly devoted.
Damien’s hands never left her. One rested possessively on her hip, the other threading through her damp hair, smoothing it back from her face as though her mere presence demanded care and ownership. His eyes—stormy, dark, and filled with an intensity that bordered on madness—never wavered from her face. “Bella,” he murmured, voice low, rough, carrying that dangerous promise th
