"I shouldn't have called you," I whisper, staring at the floor.
I can't look at him, not when my heart is pounding like the ground just dropped out from under me. Not when I feel those old claws of fear tightening around my ribs, crawling up from a seed planted when I was only five.
His lips brush my cheek, and my palms find his chest without thinking.
"Talk to me, Roxanne." His voice is soft, almost pleading.
"I think the man who killed my mother is following me. I think…he's here to finish the job." The words spill out like they've been caged too long.
His body goes still. He doesn't push for details, just takes my hand and guides me toward the bedroom. He doesn't need to ask where it is. Which means he's been here before. Which means I'm strangling him tomorrow.
Still, I'm not panicked about him. Which is insane. He's the head of a criminal empire, and for whatever reason, he's fixated on me.
But maybe it's the way he helped Luna when she needed it most. The way he stepped in when her ex turned dangerous. Maybe it's that I trust her, and she trusts Roman, Damien's friend. Or maybe I just want, for this one moment, to drop my shield.
The bed is small for two people, and with his six-foot-three frame, there's hardly any space left. We're practically glued to each other.
He doesn't try to hold me. Just threads his fingers through mine and murmurs, "I swear on my life no one will hurt you. Not tonight. Not tomorrow. Not ever. Rest, Roxanne."
I know it's a promise no one can keep. But there's devotion in his voice, raw and unpolished, and that's enough to warm something inside my chest.
I let out a soft breath and settle in. Where our hands meet radiates safety. Maybe that's why I let my eyes close.
But sleep doesn't come without ghosts. My mother's eyes in the kitchen that night. My father's frantic voice asking who had been in the house. My uncle's devastation. The maroon dahlia lying on our counter.
I don't let go of his hand, as if our connection is the only thing standing between me and breaking apart completely. My body's running on empty after nearly twenty-two hours awake.
I'm almost gone when his voice slips into my subconscious.
"You've got the biggest monster lying right beside you,slonko."
I don't understand the last word, but there's tenderness in it. And with that thought, the darkness takes me.
Chapter 5
Roxy
There's a weight draped across my hips and legs, and the second I crack my eyes open, yesterday comes rushing back in vivid, overwhelming detail.
I jerk upright and scan the room. When I glance down, Damien is pushing himself up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.
"You have two neighbors who take their trash out at five in the morning. Who the hell does that?"
I frown at him. How does he know about Mrs. Margaret with her two white cats, her obsession with waking up at 4 a.m., and her dinner every Friday at the same Italian place?
Only then do I really notice the dark shadows under his eyes.
"You stayed up all night?"
He gives me a confused look before answering.
"As long as it was dark outside, I wanted to make sure you were safe."
Unexpected, dangerous warmth pools low in my stomach at the sincerity in his voice. He means it. This man got maybe an hour of sleep just to watch over me.
"Thanks," I mumble, suddenly awkward.
Great. I must look spectacular right now with my mascara smudged and hair knotted to hell, so I bolt for the bathroom without meeting his eyes again.
