ARIA
The next few days blurred together in a mix of cleaning, filing papers, and trying not to think too hard about the bent door handle or the way my reflection sometimes looked off in the mirror.
Damian didn't push. He kept me busy with assistant work during the day—sorting emails, organizing meeting notes, standing quietly in the corner while he took calls. At night he left me alone in the guest room. No surprise visits. No more desk scenes. Just the occasional brush of his fingers when he handed me something and that steady gray stare that made my stomach flip whether I wanted it to or not.
On the fourth day he told me we were going to a pack council meeting.
"You'll come as my assistant," he said over breakfast, like it was the most normal thing in the world. "Stay quiet
