EMMA
I didn’t sleep at all after Damien left.
Every time I closed my eyes, I saw the way Gabriel had looked earlier—coiled tight, jaw clenched, eyes burning with something that scared me not because it was violent, but because it was controlled. Like a storm locked behind glass, cracking it from the inside.
By morning, I felt hollowed out. Raw. Awake in the worst way.
I forced myself out of bed and into the cold light of day, wrapped in a thick sweater that did nothing to calm the chill inside my chest. The estate looked deceptively peaceful beneath fresh snow, smoke curling lazily from chimneys, bikers moving about as if nothing was wrong.
Everything was wrong.
I hadn’t gone far when I heard my name again.
“Emma.”
I turned sharply.
Damien stood near the edge of the main courtyard
