The door slammed behind him and the room cooled in the wake of his entrance. Damien’s boots hit the floor, hard and fast. He didn’t bother with small talk. He moved straight to Gwen, eyes cold and hard as flint.
“Who did you go to meet, Gwen?” he demanded.
She spun to face him, surprise and fear warring on her face. “A friend,” she said too quickly.
He closed the space between them in two long strides and grabbed her shoulders so suddenly she flinched. “Don’t lie to me,” he said low and dangerous. “Don’t lie to me, Gwen. This is serious. Who did you go to meet?”
“I said a friend,” she repeated, voice small now. Her fingers dug into his forearms as if to steady herself and truth both.
He tightened his grip. “A friend that wants to kill you?” He pushed a hand through his hair, pacing on
