Damien’s pov:
The workroom was dead quiet. It’s the kind of silence you only find in a fortress; thick walls, bulletproof glass, and a heavy feeling that’s built for planning wars. I’ve stood in this room while cities burned. I’ve sat at this table and signed death warrants without blinking.
But tonight, I can’t think straight.
The map was spread out in front of me, held down by heavy steel blocks. It showed everything: Black Tide shipping routes, secret warehouses, and hidden codes. It should be easy. I should be able to look at this and see the solution in seconds.
Instead, all I can feel is the ghost of her skin against mine.
“Damien.”
I can still hear her saying my name. She didn’t beg. She didn’t sound scared. She just said it like it was hers to keep.
I rubbed my face with my
