I turn to face him, my heart in my throat. “You don’t know what he’s capable of, Damon. You don’t understand him.”
“You’re forgetting that we trained together for years,” he retorts. “We fought together.”
I shake my head. “He’s different when it comes to me.”
His gray eyes meet mine, unflinching. “Then make me understand.”
The coffeemaker beeps, breaking the moment, but neither of us moves. Damon’s hand rests on the counter next to mine, almost close enough to touch.
I take a deep breath, forcing myself to hold his gaze. “He’s not just dangerous because of what he’s done. He’s dangerous because he doesn’t stop. He doesn’t give up. And he always finds a way around the rules when he’s obsessed with something. Or someone.”
Damon’s jaw tightens, his eyes darkening with something I can’t name. For a moment, I think he’s going to say something, but he doesn’t. Instead, he reaches for the coffee pot, pouring two cups like it’s the most natural thing in the world. He hands me one, his fingers brushing mine.
“Then we don’t play by his rules.”
Damon pulls out a chair at the small kitchen table and sits down with his own cup, his large frame making the modest space feel even smaller.
As I sit across from him, the memory creeps in unbidden, like a shadow from the past refusing to stay buried.
The bar wasn’t crowded, but it wasn’t empty, either. It was just loud enough to let me sink into the background. I hadn’t planned on stopping; I’d only gotten in the car to get away. My cheek still stung, the mark of Jason’s hand a constant, burning reminder. He’d never hit me before that night.
I gripped the steering wheel until my knuckles turned white, aimlessly driving until the bright neon glow of a roadside bar caught my eye. I told myself I just needed a drink, a distraction, but deep down, I knew it was something else. I wanted to hurt him, to reclaim some sliver of power Jason had stolen from me.
I scanned the room, unsure what I was looking for, and then I saw him.
Damon.
He was sitting at the bar, nursing a drink. Broad shoulders, sharp jawline, that same calm intensity he carried even back on base. He looked out of place here, as if the bar couldn’t contain him.
I didn’t hesitate. I walked over, every step fueled by anger and desperation. He turned his head, his gray eyes locking on mine with a flicker of surprise.
“Mia?” he said. “What are you doing here?”
The question hit harder than I expected. What was I doing here? I swallowed the lump in my throat and slid onto the stool beside him. “Couldn’t sleep,” I lied.
He studied me for a moment, his gaze dipping briefly to my cheek. I saw his jaw tighten. He didn’t ask, he didn’t press. Instead, he signaled to the bartender.
“Two beers,” he said.
“Thanks,” I murmured, looking down at the counter.
“You’re not here for the beer,” he says after a long silence. His voice is low, rough, but not unkind.
I huff a laugh, bitter and humorless. “What gave it away?”
His lips twitch, but it’s not quite a smile. “You’re tearing up that napkin like it insulted your mother.”
I glance down at the shredded paper in my hands, then shove it aside. “Guess I’m just bad at small talk.”
“Good,” he says, surprising me. “I’m not much for it, either.”
I look up, meeting his gaze fully for the first time. There’s no judgment there, no prying curiosity. Just... understanding. It catches me off guard, makes me feel seen in a way I haven’t in years. Not since before Jason.
“Why are you here, Damon?” I ask, the question slipping out before I can stop it. “You don’t seem like the type to drink alone in a dive bar.”
He tilts his head, considering. “And what type do I seem like?”
I shrug, the corners of my mouth twitching despite myself. “The type who has his shit together. The type who doesn’t need to hide in places like this.”
