Amara’s heart raced as Damon’s grip tightened around her wrist. His eyes, once a vibrant shade of deep amber, now glowed with an unsettling crimson that sent a chill crawling down her spine. The shadows around them seemed to pulse in time with his every breath, growing larger, darker, and more menacing.
“Damon!” she gasped, struggling to pull her arm free, but his hand was like a vice, unyielding and cold.
He smiled, but there was no warmth in it—just an emptiness that made her stomach turn. “You’ve made a mistake, Amara. A dangerous one.”
Her breath hitched as she stared at him, searching for the man she had once known. This wasn’t the Damon she remembered. His eyes were distant as if some malevolent force had taken root inside him, twisting everything he was.
“You… You’re not Damon,”
