Chapter 38
Damian crossed the garden with deadly precision, his coat sweeping around him like the shadow of a storm. The guards trailed after him, tense, their weapons raised, but Damian’s eyes never left the roses.
“Where did this come from?” His voice was low and dangerous.
Elena’s lips parted, but no sound came. She thought of the stranger in the garden, of his soft but commanding voice, the way his eyes had pierced her soul.
“I don’t know,” she whispered.
Damian stopped in front of her. He plucked the note from her hand with sharp fingers, scanning it quickly. His jaw clenched so hard she feared it might shatter.
“Marco!” His roar echoed off the stone walls.
Marco appeared almost instantly, his expression grim.
“They’ve been here again,” Damian said, shoving the no
