Damon’s hands clenched into fists. This was worse than he’d thought. Veyrik now knew that Damon had a mate—a human mate who could be used as leverage. And by attackinghis enforcers, Damon had given his rival both motivation and justification for retaliation.
“I’ll need to stay here,” he said finally. “To oversee Evelina’s recovery and ensure your safety.”
He felt Isla’s surprise and irritation ripple through the mate bond before she quickly masked it. She’d asked for space that very afternoon, and now he was moving into the same house.
“I understand the situation,” Isla said carefully, though he could sense her frustration beneath the diplomatic words. “And the need for you to stay close.”
“I’ll also help with the bookstore while Evelina recovers,” he added, knowing it was the right thing to do. “And you can never go to Crimson Ridge again,” he told Evelina, his voice carrying absolute authority.
“I know. I’m sorry I caused problems.”
“This isn’t your fault.” Damon’s jaw tightened as pieces of a larger puzzle began falling into place. “Veyrik has been playing territorial games for years, testing boundaries while I’ve been... absent. But this attack today just gave him motivation to escalate.”
SIXTEEN
DAMON
The weight of his isolation pressed down on him like a physical force. While he’d been hiding in his beach house, nursing old wounds, his enemies had been circling closer. His aunt could have died today because of his negligence.
“I need to collect some things from my house,” he said, stepping away from the bed. “Isla, will you watch over her?”
Isla nodded, settling into the chair beside Evelina’s bed. “Of course.”
As Damon headed for the door, he could feel the mate bond humming with complex emotions—Isla’s concern for Evelina, her wariness about their forced proximity, and underneath it all, something that felt dangerously like hope.
Ready or not, we’re about to be thrown together.
The familiar path to his beach house felt different beneath Damon’s feet—charged with an urgency that had been absent for decades. Each step carried the weight of consequence. His dragon prowled restlessly, demanding action, demanding protection for what was his.
He pulled his phone from his pocket, speed-dialing Kaelith before he’d consciously decided to make the call. His second-in-command answered on the first ring.
“Tell me Evelina’s going to be fine,” Kaelith’s voice carried immediately, bypassing pleasantries with the efficiency of someone who’d known Damon for decades.
“She’ll recover fully.” Damon’s jaw tightened as he navigated the winding coastal path. “But we have bigger problems. I need you to listen carefully and act fast.”
“I’m listening.”
“While Evelina and Isla were shopping in Crimson Ridge territory today, Kalis and Sylara cornered them—aggressive questioning and territorial posturing. When Sylara shifted and went after Isla, Evelina had to defend her.” Damon’s voice carried the controlled fury of a predator barely leashed. “When I finally showed up, I injured both of Veyrik’s lieutenants getting them out.”
The silence on the other end stretched for several heartbeats before Kaelith’s sharp exhale crackled through the speaker.
“Shit. That’s not just a territorial dispute anymore—that’s a declaration.”
“Exactly.” Damon rounded the final curve, his beach house coming into view like a sanctuary he might never see again in peace. “Veyrik now knows I have a mate, knows she’s human, and knows I’ll cross into his territory to protect her. He’s probably been testing our boundaries for months while I’ve been...”
“While you’ve been hiding away,” Kaelith finished.
“Yes.” The admission tasted bitter. “And now my isolation has put everyone at risk.”
Damon climbed the wooden steps to his front porch, each board creaking under his weight like a countdown to war. Inside,the minimalist space that had once felt like control now seemed stark and empty—a monument to wasted time.
“What do you need from me?” Kaelith’s voice sharpened with military precision.
“Maximum patrol strength, effective immediately. I want sentries on every approach to the island.” Damon moved through his living room toward the bedroom, already mentally cataloging what he’d need. “No one travels to Crimson Ridge or any other territory without my explicit permission. Complete lockdown but keep it quiet. I don’t want panic spreading through the clan.”
“How quiet are we talking? Because if Veyrik retaliates?—”
“He will retaliate.” Damon’s voice carried absolute certainty as he pulled a leather duffel bag from his closet. “The question is when and how. But I won’t have our people caught off guard again.”
