Elena’s breath froze in her chest. Damian stood at the entrance of the café, rain dripping from his coat, his expression impossibly calm—but his eyes…
His eyes were not calm.
They burned.
Lucas took one small step back, placing himself subtly between them, but Damian’s gaze locked on Elena like the rest of the room didn’t exist.
“Elena,” Damian said softly. Too softly. “Come with me.”
Her heart hammered. That voice—calm, velvet, dangerously gentle—was the exact tone he used before making decisions no one could predict.
“Damian,” she whispered, “I can explain—”
“No need.” He smiled. A slow, controlled smile that made Lucas tense. “I know what this is.”
Lucas stepped forward. “Damian, listen—”
Damian didn’t even look at him. “This is between Elena and me.”
His gaze returned to her,
