Because I saw it—the shift in Garrett’s expression. The cold calculation. The pivot of a predator who’d been cornered and now sought the weaker link. Not peace. Not surrender. Strategy.
He took one step toward her.
Damien blocked him instantly.”If I have to repeat myself again, Garrett…” His voice was barely human. “Even Emma won’t be able to stop me.”
Garrett lurched back a step—then another—his bravado collapsing under the weight of Damien’s stare. A strangled, panicked sound tore from him as he spun and bolted toward the foyer.
He slammed his palm against the elevator button.
Once.
Twice.
Three frantic jabs—like he could force the doors open through sheer desperation.
The elevator numbers crawled upward with agonizing slowness.
17…
24…
31…
Candace let out a tiny sob beside me.
When the doors finally dinged open, he shot inside so fast he nearly tripped.
He didn’t look back.
Not even once.
Chapter 44
***
Damien
She’s going to hate me.
Those were the only words I knew. Everything else slipped into the widening void in me.
I sank onto the edge of the sofa, elbows on my knees, attention scanning the mess of a living room—chair knocked sideways, takeout containers cooling on the table, the faint scent of soy and orange peel turning my stomach.
The apartment was too quiet—no yelling, no impact, no ragged breathing. Just silence. A silence I’d created. A silence I’d earned.
I dragged a hand over my face, but the shaking wouldn’t stop. My knuckles still throbbed; skin split where bone had met bone, but the sting barely registered. Drowned out by the moments replaying themselves over and over. The instant Garrett hit Candace. The sound. The flash of Emma’s face—shock, fear, pain—all colliding inside me at once.
And then me—losing control like some monster dragged out of a basement. The echo of my own voice—too loud, too feral—snarling things I didn’t even remember deciding to say.
She had already accepted too much of me—my edges, my obsessions, the things I kept locked away because I knew whatthey turned into when I wasn’t careful. But this? There was no way she would accept this.
I’d known her history. Known enough to be careful. Known enough to understand what yelling, slamming doors, sudden violence could do to her. I’d told myself I would never be the reason she flinched.
And yet—here I was.
But it was nothing compared to the whispers tearing through my head:You ruined it. You ruined her. She’ll never feel safe with you again.
Dread coiled tight. “Fuck,” I rasped, voice breaking. “What did I do?”
