My legs feel numb when Damian orders me to move. Fear rushes through my limbs too fast, too sharp, like my body wants to run in every direction at once without choosing a path. My breath catches and breaks in uneven bursts as the voices on security radio crackle through the tension around us.
Damian steps in front of me without hesitation. He becomes a wall. A barrier. A force. His presence fills the hallway, blocking the growing noise of panic behind us. The elevator lights flicker from red to standby green, then back to red as the building’s lockdown protocols shift around us.
“Stay behind me,” he says.
It is not a request.
His hand finds my wrist, but not to restrain. To guide. To anchor. Even so, the contact sends my panic spiking until I pull free. He lets me go instantly, no frus
