Lisa’s POV
We didn’t run.
Damon kept a steady pace, fast but not frantic. His hand was tight on mine, cutting through the chaos with the certainty and confidence of someone used to crisis.
Behind us, the Greaves estate crackled with panic. Screams. Shouting. The blur of movement as guards scrambled and high society tried not to fall apart in front of each other. I turned, just once, trying to find Ronan in the mess.
Damon tugged me forward again.
“Eyes forward. Don’t stop.”
We moved through a service gate, past confused staff and a few lingering guests, their faces frozen somewhere between horror, fear and calculation.Headlights flared as a black SUV rolled to a halt just as we reached the end of the marble breezeway. Not the same car we came in.
Damon opened the rear door quickly.
“Get in,” he said.
I hesitated. “But Ronan—”
“He’s still inside. I’m going back for him.”
As I dropped into the backseat my eyes searched his face for more. Reassurance maybe.
“Go, Lisa. They'll keep you
