Damian didn’t speak as they crossed the loading bay. His hand stayed wrapped around her chain like a steel shackle, his body thrumming with the fury that began back at the auction and hadn’t cooled since.
Aria could feel it in him. Could feel it in herself.
The air was stretched so thin between them it felt one breath away from snapping.
They were halfway to the surveillance trucks when a sharp whistle cut the quiet.
Jaxon stiffened. “Boss—movement. East corridor.”
Damian cursed under his breath and pulled Aria behind him. “We move. Now.”
But footsteps erupted—too many. Too close.
“Storage room,” Jaxon hissed. “Only place to hide without crossing open ground.”
Damian didn’t hesitate. His grip tightened around Aria’s wrist, dragging her with him as he broke into a sprint. They slipped into a narrow steel door just as armed shadows spilled into the open.
The door slammed shut behind them.
Darkness swallowed everything.
The room was barely bigger than a closet. Dust. Old crates. The scent of oil and cold metal. Aria’s back hit the wall, her breath stuttering, the collar trembling faintly at her throat.
Damian pressed close—too close—his chest brushing hers with every inhale.
“Don’t move,” he whispered, voice low, lethal, vibrating against her skin.
Footsteps thundered just outside the door. Men spoke in low tones, weapons scraping concrete. One wrong breath and they’d be dead.
Aria nodded, but her whole body trembled.
Damian braced one hand against the wall beside her head, caging her in, his other hand reaching instinctively toward her waist—steadying her.
Not controlling, steadying.
She felt his breath graze her cheek. Heat. Fury. Restraint.
Her heart hammered—not from fear. Not anymore.
Outside, a boot kicked the door. Aria gasped quietly, and Damian immediately pressed forward, covering her mouth with his hand, pinning her tighter to the wall.
Their bodies aligned. His forehead nearly touched hers.
“Quiet,” he breathed, so soft she felt it more than heard it.
The footsteps paused.
Damian’s eyes were shadows in the dark—but they were on her. Only her.
Finally, the intruders moved on. Voices faded. Silence returned.
Damian didn’t step back. Didn’t move at all.
Aria swallowed, her lips brushing the heel of his palm. Damian froze like she’d burned him. Slowly—agonizingly—he dropped his hand, but he didn’t retreat.
His chest brushed hers with every breath.
His mouth hovered too close to be safe. Too close to be sane.
Aria whispered, “Why won’t you touch me?”
Damian inhaled sharply, jaw clenching as if she’d struck him. For a long moment he said nothing. Then, in a voice shredded with conflict, he whispered:
“Because if I touch you…”
His breath dragged.
“…I’ll ruin you.”
Aria’s breath hitched, heat curling low in her stomach.
“Damian…” she whispered.
His gaze dropped to her lips. Lingered. Darkened.
“Don’t say my name like that,” he growled softly. “I’m barely holding myself together as it is.”
Aria lifted her chin just enough that their lips brushed in passing—a ghost of contact.
Damian made a sound—low, pained, feral.
And still…
He didn’t pull away.
He braced one hand against the wall beside her head, the other settling low on her waist, fingers digging into silk, trembling with restraint he wasn’t known for.
“Do you know what you’re doing?” he whispered, voice broken enough to make her heart twist.
Aria whispered back, “Yes.”
Damian shuddered.
But before anything could ignite—
A gunshot split the air.
Then another.
And shouting.
Damian’s entire body snapped into focus. “Move.”
He grabbed Aria’s hand, pulling her through the storeroom and back into the chaos outside.
They were ambushed instantly.
Gunfire erupted from the catwalks above. Sparks exploded as bullets tore through cargo cases. Jaxon cursed, returning fire.
“Get her to the car!” Damian roared.
But the moment Aria stepped into open ground, the world detonated into violence.
A bullet shattered a window behind them.
Aria screamed as another whizzed past her ear.
Damian shoved her down, body covering hers completely, his gun firing blindly over her shoulder. “Stay down!”
Another barrage of shots. Jaxon shouted directions. Metal groaned.
Damian grabbed her—hard, desperate—and dragged her toward the car. A bullet slammed into the concrete inches from her feet.
Inside the backseat Damian practically threw her down, climbing over her as windows shattered around them.
“Drive!” he barked.
Jaxon slammed the gas. Tires screeched.
More bullets. More sparks.
Aria tried to lift her head but Damian’s hand slammed against her cheek, forcing her down.
“Don’t move,” he growled through gritted teeth.
Aria felt his body jerk violently.
A shot.
A gasp.
“Damian?” she whispered.
He didn’t answer at first.
Then she felt heat—wet heat—dripping down onto her shirt.
Blood.
His blood.
Aria’s breath broke. “You’re hit—”
“Quiet.” His voice was sandpaper. “I said stay down.”
He kept his body curled around her until Jaxon reached the safehouse.
Damian’s strength faltered only when the car stopped. He staggered out, gripping the door frame, refusing help. Aria climbed out after him despite his snarl of protest.
Inside the safehouse bathroom, he tried to shove her away again.
“Get out,” he rasped. “I can handle a bullet gra—”
Aria grabbed his wrist.
“No,” she snapped. “Not this time.”
His eyes widened—not with anger. With shock.
Aria pushed him onto the counter and pulled the medical kit toward her.
Damian hissed as she peeled off his ruined shirt, revealing the graze—deep, ugly, bleeding too heavily. Aria’s hands shook as she threaded the needle.
“Look at me,” she whispered.
Damian did.
His breathing slowed.
Her hands steadied.
She began stitching him up—slow, careful, terrified. Damian didn’t look away from her once. Not even when the needle pierced skin.
“Why…” she whispered, voice cracking, “why did you take the bullet?”
Damian’s throat worked, words fighting to stay locked inside.
Finally, in a voice barely audible, he said:
“Because I can’t lose you.”
Aria froze. Damian swallowed hard, jaw trembling.
“I can’t,” he repeated, softer. Raw.
Their eyes locked.
The space between them shifted—dangerous, tender, aching.
Damian whispered her name like it hurt.
Aria whispered his like it healed.
His hand lifted, brushing her jaw. Her breath shivered. And for one charged moment, they didn’t hate each other. They just burned.