DamonI sit there, locked into the chair like my body's forgotten how to move. Minutes bleed into hours. Nothing changes.Not the heaviness in my chest.Not the thick mess in my head.Sleep doesn't come.Of course it doesn’t.It’s not quiet either. Not in my mind. Not even close.The worst kind of noise is the one you can't turn off—the kind that keeps circling, tighter and tighter, until it feels like you’ll suffocate under the weight of your own damn thoughts.I must drift off at some point, because the blare of my phone rips me out of the fog- Leo.My hand fumbles over the nightstand, knocking over a glass before I finally grab it.Whatever it is can wait.It’s barely been two days since I left. Two days for God's sake.I let the phone ring out.But the second it stops, It rings again.Persistent.Something's wrong.A knot forms in my stomach before my brain even catches up.I yank the phone to my ear, the edge in my voice cutting sharper than intended.“What?”"I’m sorry, boss," L
AriaI run.Hard.Faster than my legs have ever carried me.No time to think. No time to look back. Just the pounding of my feet against uneven pavement and the sound of my heartbeat screaming in my ears.Only when the sharp ache in my ribs forces me to stop do I realise how long I’ve been running. The lights have changed. Everything has.It’s dusk now—that eerie moment between light and night. The buildings cast long shadows across the cracked sidewalk, and the street is emptied out, save for a few too-quiet figures lingering on corners I don’t want to walk past. My gut twists at the sight of them.There’s no one.Not even a cab.This is a bad place.It’s not safe out here. Not by this time.No phone. Just the cash I stuffed in the bottom of my bag. Worse, no way to call for help, even if I wanted to. Even if I gave in and decided to crawl back.But I'm not going back. Not yet. Not until I figure out what the hell this is.A flicker of neon catches my eye up ahead—an old inn tucked b
DamonWhere the hell are you, A?Why couldn’t you just sit your ass down?Why?One week. That’s all I asked for. One week to get my head straight. To clear this goddamn fog that’s been clouding every thought since Paris.But no. Of course not.It’s already late. The sky’s dark, the streets are quieter than usual, and every fucking second that ticks by adds weight to my chest. I grip my phone like it might suddenly offer an answer, but instead it rings, the sharp sound slicing through the silence.Kingsley.“Any news?” he asks the second I pick up.“No, man. She’s not here. I found her phone in an alleyway, but she’s not here.” My voice comes out flat. Resigned.He exhales sharply. “Keep searching. She couldn’t have gotten far. Hopefully, she managed to get away."“Right. Thanks. This stays between us. You know what’s at stake.”“Of course,” he says, his tone grave. “My prayers are that no one’s recognised her in all this mess.”“Right. That too. It would be a fucking disaster.” I mutt
DamonThe car pulls in minutes later. Leo jumps out, opens the backseat. I ease her inside, wrapping her in a spare blanket from the trunk.She doesn’t fight it. Just shivers, eyes closed, the shell of her body telling a story she won’t say out loud.I climb in beside her.“Drive,” I tell Leo.The ride is silent.The engine hums. The wipers slice the rain. Her breathing is steady, shallow, like the whole night’s events have finally caught up to her.I glance at her.No mascara.No lipstick.No sharp retort sitting on her tongue.Just a girl who ran too far, chasing someone who may not want to be found.And all I want in this moment is to reach across the seat and hold her hand.But I don’t.Because I’m still the monster.Have been. Still am.I’m cut out of my reverie by the sound of Leo’s voice.“Where to? Home or?” He asks, his voice tight with hesitation, eyes flicking back to the rearview mirror.He already knows the answer. Or at least the dilemma. We can’t go home.Eunice will sn
AriaNot long after I doze off, a sharp pain splits through my head, jolting me awake. It pulses once. Then again. I wince, eyes clamped shut as if that alone could dull the sting.When I manage to pry them open, he's already seated beside me in a chair. A glass of water and a pill sit in his hand like some unspoken offering."I should have given you this before you slept," he says, voice even but clipped. "Get up."It comes out more like an order than concern.I try to push myself up, but a dull ache shoots through my leg. I flinch. Damon stands and sits on the edge of the bed, one arm supporting my back as he helps me up gently.That gentleness throws me off more than the pain.He's been like this since yesterday. Quiet, calculated, and gentle in ways he’s never allowed himself to be."Thank you," I murmur."Here. Take this," he replies, handing me the pills and water.I swallow it quickly, passing the empty glass back to him. He places it on the side table without a word.Then, str
Aria “No, Damon!” I snap. “Don’t you dare. I never had you. Not really. I had a jailer. A freaking captor. A man who dragged me out of a hospital bed and threw me into this freaking cage!”He flinches. Just slightly.But it’s enough.“And I fought. Every damn day. I tried to hold on to what little I remembered. To what I felt. To my name. But you crushed all of it under your suspicion.”“You could’ve died out there,” he says, voice low, dangerous.“Then maybe I’d finally be free.”Silence.He walks toward me. Slowly.I should move. But I don’t.“I searched every fucking corner of that alley,” he says, voice hoarse. “And when I found your phone, I thought—” He stops himself. Shakes his head.“I thought I was too late.”Emotion clogs my throat.But I don’t look away.“You’re angry because I dropped my phone?”“I’m angry,” he growls, hesitating for a bit, “because I care.”That breaks me.Just like that.Because it’s the last thing I expect to hear. From him.The air crackles.But I don
DamonDamon freaking Stone.What now? What next?The ceiling stares back at me as my chest slowly rises and falls. Each breath steadier than the last, but not enough to calm the chaos inside.I can still feel her on me. Around me. I don’t dare look in her direction. If I do, I’ll give myself away—and not just with my eyes. The tight rein I've kept on this storm inside will snap, and I can't afford that. Not right now. Not yet.Because now, it’s clear. As clear as the silence hanging in this room.She isn’t Ava. Never was.I always had my doubts. From the way she spoke, to how she carried herself, to how she'd look at me—not like someone with history, but like someone new. But tonight? It sealed it. The way her body moved with mine, how she reached for me, the rawness of it—no calculation, no manipulation, just... raw.Unfiltered.Honest.It was never like that with Ava. There was always an angle. An agenda.But her?Aria?She was shaking. Trembling beneath my hands. Like every touch m
AriaI don’t know when sleep finally pulled me under, but I know the weight in my chest hadn’t lifted when it happened. Maybe I passed out more than drifted off—from exhaustion, from anger, from confusion. From the ache of feeling stupid again.My body aches in strange places. Not from pain—at least not entirely—but from memory.Last night comes crashing back. The weight of him. The heat. The way my own body betrayed me. Not that it was forced—no. That’s what makes it worse. I let it happen. I wanted it. Wanted him. In that moment, and maybe longer than I would want to admit.It was good.Too good.Better than anything I'd ever experienced before, which says less about him and more about the sad collection of men from my past.Still, waking up feels like being dropped right back into the mess I was trying to escape in the first place. The thoughts from the night before creep back in like shadows across the ceiling. That sting of feeling stupid. Used. And most of all, ignored.He didn’
AriaI don't have it in me to argue with him anymore.The moment he blocks the door and tells me I can't leave, I just stand there for a heartbeat, feeling his eyes on me like a weight I can't shake off. And then I turn around, walk back to the bed, and fall into it like my bones are made of glass.No retort. No clapback. No eye roll. Just quiet.Because honestly? I'm too damn tired.My body feels like it’s folding in on itself. Every breath feels like it’s asking for too much. My muscles ache in that dull, warning-sign way. The fever's probably creeping back up. And as much as I’d love to throw something at him, shout, or kick the door down just to feel something other than this exhaustion... I can’t. I simply can’t.So I do the only thing I can do in this moment. I sleep.---Night creeps in like a fog, slow and thick, and I’m barely aware of time passing. The ceiling is a blur. The hum of the city feels like it’s coming from underwater. I’m shivering so hard my teeth are lightly cl
DamonI should've kept my damn mouth shut.The second the words left, I knew I'd screwed up. They were supposed to stay in my head—that fleeting thought, that one stupid line that wasn’t supposed to mean anything. But hearing them aloud, raw and unfiltered, made it worse.Wrapped around your finger?Jesus. Damon.I don’t even wait for her reaction. I hear the confusion in her voice, the sharp little sting behind her words: "What the hell does that mean?"And I do the next best thing. I walk away.Because there's no comeback, no retort, and no sarcastic deflection that'll save me from this one. I head for the mini kitchen and drop myself on one of the bar stools like gravity just doubled. My elbows hit the counter and I rub my temples, trying to get my head back.What the hell was that, Damon? Seriously.I pull out my phone, desperate for a distraction, and of course Kingsley's text is waiting:Two things. Home front is secure now. If you feel like returning. Also, Gina will be there
AriaI’m back in bed, curled under the duvet, and for a second, I let the warmth trick me into thinking everything’s fine. That I’m just tired, not emotionally frayed. That my body doesn’t feel like it’s been hit by a train, and my mind isn’t spinning with questions I’ve long stopped asking out loud.Then I hear his footsteps.Damon’s slow, unhurried steps, like he’s taking his time to think through what he’ll say. His hands are in his pockets, shoulders relaxed but not lazy. He stops by my side of the bed, close enough to feel the pressure of his presence even without looking up.“You should shower,” he says.I turn my head toward him, still not meeting his eyes. “I’m weak. I will... soon.”He doesn’t budge. “Someone’s coming to check you out. You’ll want to be cleaned up by the time they get here.”I sigh, eyes still closed. Maybe if I ignore him long enough, he’ll walk away.“You want me to help?” he asks, voice flat, not teasing or flirty—just serious. Serious enough that I open m
AriaI keep my back to him, curled under the duvet, but my mind's already far from here.He's obviously just running. From the truth. From everything. And maybe from me too.I’ve never even been alike with Ava. Not really. Identical? Sure. Uncannily. The type that makes people double-take and question their own eyes. But alike? Never. Anyone who’s ever spent more than five minutes with both of us could tell the difference. Personality doesn’t lie. Presence doesn’t either. Ava used to suck the air out of the room. I’ve always tried to fill it quietly. She walked in like she owned the place; I walk in hoping nobody notices.But here he is. A man who’s seen both of us up close. Still choosing to lie to himself instead. And I’m done arguing. Done trying to correct someone who clearly finds comfort in the version of the story that causes the least discomfort. For him, anyway.The sound of Damon’s voice pulls me from my thoughts. He’s on the phone. Probably Kingsley. It’s always Kingsley.H
Damon"Damon?"Her voice is barely there. A whisper, like it’s unsure if it even wants to exist. But it stops me in my tracks.I freeze on the balcony, hand still clutching the phone, Kingsley’s last words still hanging in the air like static. My pulse jumps, but I don’t turn immediately. I wait a beat, listening for more, for confirmation, for anything that’ll tell me if she heard what I just said. About Gina. About my need to reset. About punishing myself for dragging her into this mess.I finally turn, slow, controlled, like I’m disarming a live wire.She’s at the door, blinking, swaying a little, her fingers clutching the door frame like she’s not quite sure how she got there. Eyes half-lidded, skin flushed, and still bundled in the same hoodie and sweats she passed out in. And just like that, I know—she didn’t hear a thing. Not a damn word.Relief floods through me, sharp and sudden.I step toward her immediately, crossing the space between us in three long strides. “What are you
DamonThe towel’s warm. Damp. Smells like her shampoo because that’s all I could find. I press it to her forehead anyway, slow, like the way you’d soothe a startled animal, or… something fragile. I don’t know. I’m not good at this part. But I do it anyway. Carefully. Quietly. Like, if I move too fast, I’ll make it even worse.Her eyes are half-closed, her face slack with exhaustion. The fever’s still thereand her skin’s still hot to the touch. I shift the towel, flip it, and press again. She doesn’t say anything at first. Doesn’t even flinch. Just lies there, breathing slow and shallow.After a while, I ask, "Do you feel any better?"She nods. Barely. Not convincingly. But I’ll take it.I stay there longer than I should, watching her. The silence settles in, comfortable and strange all at once. Before long, my eyes grow heavy and the edges of the room start to blur, and before I even realise it, I’m slipping under.When I wake up, I’m still seated by the bed, back aching from the shit
AriaSteam coils around me like smoke as I press my forehead to the cool tile wall. The water pounds over my back, hot and relentless, but my mind's somewhere else entirely.Today is the end of it. I'm done asking Damon about what happened between us—the sex, the looks, the moments I keep replaying like they mean something. They don’t. Not to him. And I refuse to be that girl, the one who keeps chasing shadows just to feel seen.I tilt my head back and let the spray hit my face. God, I actually told him everything. All of it. From Daniel's name to the espresso to the damn boutique hopping. And for what? He just stood there like a stone, staring at me like I was reading out of someone else’s diary.Still, I’ll give myself credit. I didn’t flinch. Didn’t sugarcoat it. Just told him. That’s got to count for something.I grab the soap and lather off the day—the grime, the weight, the leather that clung to me like shame. Months of this. Months pretending this marriage, this arrangement, do
DamonShe was just here.I swear she was just here.The sound of the door closing didn’t even register when it happened. I thought maybe she was grabbing a drink, stepping out to get food. something. But not leaving. Nothing that would leave this suite feeling like a damn ghost town an hour later.Ten minutes.I glance at the time again.Fifteen.I walk to the door, pull it open, look left, right. The hallway’s empty. No sign of her. So I sit back down and wait, trying not to assume the worst, which is a feat in itself considering that’s exactly what I’m wired to do. Especially since Ashbury Lane.At thirty minutes, my patience hits a wall.I grab my phone and shoot off a text to her:Where the hell did you run off to?Nothing.Ten minutes pass. Still nothing.I toss the phone onto the bed and stare at the ceiling like it holds answers. It doesn’t. It's still just mocking silence.No, I’m not calling security. Not yet. That’d be overkill. She’s not kidnapped. She’s not stupid. She wou
Aria"Hello."Daniel's voice breaks through the static in my mind. I blink, jolted back into the moment, fingers still curled loosely around the ceramic cup."Sorry," I say quickly, managing a small smile. "I'm fine. Just... wandering thoughts. You know how it is sometimes."He nods, his expression softening. "All too well."I take another sip of the espresso, letting the bitterness ground me. It helps. A little.Daniel leans back in his chair, folding his arms in a way that makes him look less like a stranger and more like someone who's sat across from me more than once. "So. You know my name, you know I’ve got two daughters who boss me around like they run the UN, and you know I moved here with a suitcase and a half-broken heart. That’s a decent start. But I’m still trying to figure out who you are.""I'm a terrible shopper," I say with a grin that doesn’t quite reach my eyes.He laughs, warm and genuine. "No, you’re not. You’re just distracted. There’s a difference.""Touché."He t