“I found this behind the outer shell of the Malta relay. Same encryption style as Anton’s early work. But there’s more. A project name—Velvet Blade.”
Damian’s jaw tenses at the words.
He opens the ledger with a small, controlled movement, but the air changes all the same. Without blinking, his eyes skim the entries of the bribes, payouts, mentions of resurrected operations tied directly to Ignatov infrastructure.
His legacy, twisted and weaponized, and his father’s sins, bleeding into his own lie unveiled before his very eyes.
His throat works once, a hard swallow he probably doesn’t realize he makes. The tightness in his jaw deepens until I think he might crack his own teeth.
“Anton is using your division’s old codename,” I say quietly. “He’s resurrecting what you dismantled. Rebuilding it from the shadows. Using your name, your symbols, your people.”
Damian’s fingers grip the edge of the table. Just a slight curl of his hand, but enough to whiten the knuckles.
He looks… undone. It’s nothing anyone would be able to see, but the twitch in his eyelid gives him away—I’ve seen him long enough to know that’s more than a chink in the armor. The temperature in the room drops even further.
He’s breathing far too artificially.
Unconsciously, I reach for him. The consequences of my actions or the fact that this man has upended my life in ways that still hurts me aren’t things I’m thinking about anymore.
My hand lifts, unsteady but determined, and rests on his forearm. The contact is like a breeze brushing a leaf, skin brushing fabric, warmth brushing tension.
He goes still like he’s afraid even breathing will break the moment.
“Damian,” I say, softer now. “You’re not fighting this alone.”
His breath leaves him in one slow exhale, quiet and rough. Not a sound I’ve ever heard from him before.
His other hand lifts hesitatingly and then covers mine. His palm is burning like he’s been holding on to anger for so long it’s turned molten inside him.
We stand like that, suspended between exhaustion and defiance, fear and something dangerously close to longing. The kind of longing that coils low and sharp, a need shaped by history and arguments and the nights we’ve spent pretending the walls between us were protection instead of cowardice.
And then the space between us shifts.
He steps close enough that I feel the heat radiating off him, enough that my breath falters. His gaze flicks to my mouth.
I lean in, fingers curling into his shirt, and his breath stutters just once before he closes the final inch between us.
The kiss hits like a collision. His hands are on my waist, my back, drawing me closer with a force that steals my breath. Heat coils through me. The world narrows to the sound of our breaths, the brush of his lips, the way he holds me like he’s afraid I’ll vanish if he loosens his grip.
“Harper,” he breathes against my mouth.
I kiss him again, harder, fingers sliding up his chest, tracing the pounding heartbeat beneath. Everything inside me feels stretched thin, vibrating between anger and want and the rare illusion of safety.
His mouth traces a trail of fire down my neck, my head tossed back as he has his fill of me. His hands are everywhere: at my cheek, my throat, my tits that can’t be contained by his large hands, and my waist that flows into my voluptuous ass. He grabs at me like I’m going to disappear any moment.
It fuels me, my gut molten with pleasure.
“D-Damian,” I murmur breathlessly as he tugs down the neckline of my shirt impatiently. His tongue is warm and alive against my decolletage, undoing me with each stripe. He separates from me, his intense green eyes burning with an animalistic flame.
His breath is wet against my lobe, his lips whispering, “Has anyone fucked you after me?”
His crass words only worsen the storm inside my mind and my body. My legs tremble, wetness pooling between them.
“You’ve ruined everyone else for me.”
His fingers tangle in my hair, pulling my head back sharply. His eyes are a wild creature unleashed, lust unlike anything I’ve ever seen before.
“That’s right,” he growls, mashing his lips with mine.
