The drive home was quiet except for the deep hum of Damien’s Maserati as it cut through the night. Gwen sat in the passenger seat, her body heavy with exhaustion, but her eyes stayed fixed on Damien. His hands gripped the steering wheel tightly, his knuckles pale against the black leather. Every line of his body screamed anger, from the tight set of his jaw to the storm in his dark eyes.
Her chest tightened with unease. The silence felt heavier than the roar of the engine. She couldn’t stop herself from asking the question that had been eating her up.
“Did you kill Marcus?” she whispered, almost afraid of her own voice.
Damien’s head turned slightly, his eyes cutting to her in a sharp side glance. The look he gave her was enough to make her heart stumble.
“What if I did?” he shot back,
