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Alina’s pulse pounded in her ears as she gripped the leather armrest of the car, her nails digging into the material. The city lights blurred past in streaks of gold and white, but her focus remained locked on the man beside her—Damon.
He hadn’t said a word since they left the penthouse, his fingers curled tightly around the steering wheel, jaw clenched, his entire body coiled with restrained fury. The silence was suffocating.
She exhaled sharply. “Where are we going?”
Damon didn’t answer.
His gaze remained fixed on the road, his knuckles white from the force of his grip. The air between them crackled with unspoken tension, the weight of everything that had happened pressing down on them.
Alina swallowed hard. She had seen Damon angry before—cold, ruthless, dangerous. But
