Visible cracks

I wake up to the dull ache of bruises and the heavier weight of guilt.

My hips carry the faint imprint of Damien’s fingers. My throat still feels the ghost of his hand. Between my legs I am tender in a way that makes every shift of the sheets a reminder. And underneath all of it sits the memory of Kai’s mouth on mine—softer, careful, and somehow more dangerous because of it.

I force myself out of bed and into the shower. The water is hot enough to sting. I scrub until my skin is pink, but nothing erases the feeling of being claimed by one man while still tasting another.

When I finally dress, I choose carefully: high-necked top, long sleeves, dark jeans. Armor.

Downstairs the kitchen is already occupied.

Adrian stands at the island in a black shirt with the sleeves rolled up, coffee in hand. He looks up the moment I enter. His eyes move over my face, then lower, lingering on the high collar of my top for a fraction longer than usual.

“You’re up early,” he says.

“Couldn’t sleep.”

He sets the cup down. “That’s becoming a pattern.”

I pour coffee and keep my back to him so he can’t read whatever is written on my face. The silence stretches. I can feel him watching me.

“Aria.”

I turn.

Adrian’s expression is controlled, but there is something tighter around his eyes. “Has Damien said or done anything to make you uncomfortable?”

The question lands like a blade.

I keep my voice steady. “No.”

He doesn’t look convinced. “He’s been different since he arrived. More… focused on you.”

“He’s always like that.”

“Not like this.” Adrian steps closer. The clean scent of his cologne wraps around me, familiar and painful. “If he’s crossing a line, I want to know.”

I almost laugh. The line was crossed days ago. It is still being crossed every night I leave the door unlocked.

“I’m fine,” I lie.

Adrian studies me for another long moment. Then he reaches out and gently brushes a strand of hair away from my face. The touch is brief, almost brotherly, but it sends a sharp pulse of longing through me so strong I have to look away.

“I’m here,” he says quietly. “Whatever it is.”

The sincerity in his voice makes my chest ache. I nod once, not trusting myself to speak, and step back.

Damien chooses that exact moment to walk in.

He is freshly showered, hair still damp, wearing a dark sweater that makes his presence fill the room. His eyes move from Adrian’s hand (now lowered) to my face, and a slow, knowing smile curves his mouth.

“Family meeting?” he asks lightly.

Adrian’s jaw tightens. “Just checking in.”

“How thoughtful.” Damien pours coffee, then leans against the counter close to me—closer than necessary. His arm brushes mine. The contact is small and deliberate. “Aria and I are getting along just fine. Aren’t we?”

I force myself to meet his eyes. “Yes.”

Adrian looks between us. Something unreadable passes through his expression before he picks up his phone and keys.

“I have an early meeting. I’ll be back late.” His gaze settles on me one last time. “Call me if you need anything.”

Then he is gone.

The front door closes. The sound of his car fades.

Damien waits three full seconds before he speaks.

“He almost touched you,” he says, voice low. “I saw it.”

I step away from him. “It was nothing.”

“It didn’t look like nothing.” He follows, crowding me against the counter the same way he did the first morning. One hand braces on the marble beside my hip. The other lifts and traces the high neckline of my top, then dips just far enough to brush the tender skin of my throat. “You’re wearing this to hide what I left.”

I don’t deny it.

Damien’s eyes darken. “Kai kissed you. Adrian is starting to look at you like he wants to. And you’re still opening the door for me every night.” His thumb presses lightly against my pulse. “Do you have any idea how dangerous that combination is?”

“I’m handling it.”

“No,” he says softly. “You’re drowning in it. And I’m the only one who isn’t pretending otherwise.”

He leans in, mouth close to my ear. “Tonight I’m going to remind you who you open that door for. And if I find out Kai has touched you again, I will make sure he knows exactly who you belong to while you’re still shaking from me.”

The threat and the promise tangle together until I can’t tell which one makes my pulse race harder.

Damien steps back, picks up his coffee, and walks toward the home office like the conversation never happened.

I stand alone in the kitchen, heart slamming against my ribs, the place between my legs already aching with a mixture of dread and unwanted anticipation.

The day has only just started.

Adrian is noticing.

Kai is worried.

Damien is done sharing my attention even in secret.

And I am the one who keeps leaving the door unlocked.

I press my palms against the cold marble and try to steady my breathing.

It doesn’t work.

Somewhere in this house, three different kinds of hunger are circling me.

And I no longer know which one will reach me first—or which one I will let consume me completely.