Damian carried Aria through the front doors of Wolfe Tower like a man returning from war with the one thing he could not afford to lose. The entire lobby went silent. Executives froze mid-step. Security guards stiffened. Even the marble seemed to stop echoing, as if the building itself understood what was happening.
Aria was in his arms—shaking, clothes torn, blood smeared across her collarbone, her breathing shallow from panic. Damian’s suit jacket was thrown over her shoulders, but it didn’t hide the bruises blooming along her skin or the terror in her eyes. Damian himself looked like a demon dragged out of hell. His shirt was ripped open, blood streaking his knuckles, jaw clenched so tight it looked carved from stone. His eyes were black—murderous.
And the tower felt it. Everyone felt it.
A whisper slithered across the room:
“She ran.”
“She escaped?”
“She was taken—Wolfe wouldn’t look like that for anything else.”
“Look at him. He’ll kill us all.”
Damian didn’t hear them. Or maybe he did—he simply didn’t care. His steps were quick, unsteady, like he was holding back a hurricane by sheer force of will. Every time Aria whimpered, even softly, Damian’s arms tightened around her like he feared she might disappear if he loosened his grip by a single inch.
The elevator doors opened before he even touched the button—Jaxon had sprinted ahead and forced them to stay open. His face paled when he saw Aria. The blood. The bruises. The fear.
“Boss—”
“Not a word,” Damian growled, voice cracked with something feral. “Top floor. Now.”
Jaxon obeyed instantly.
The moment the elevator doors slid shut, the contained silence was suffocating. Aria’s breath hitched and Damian’s jaw twitched, a violent ripple beneath his skin.
“You shouldn’t have—” Aria whispered, voice trembling.
Damian exploded.
“DON’T.” His voice boomed off the steel walls. Aria flinched hard. Damian squeezed his eyes shut like her fear stabbed him. He adjusted her in his arms, gentler this time, but the fury didn’t leave his voice. “Don’t you dare finish that sentence. Not tonight. Not after what I saw.”
Aria swallowed, lips trembling.
“You weren’t supposed to find me.”
Damian stared at her like she had slapped him.
“You think I wouldn’t tear the city apart piece by fucking piece to get to you?” His voice cracked. “You think I wouldn’t burn every street, every family, every goddamn building until you were in my hands again?”
Aria’s breath shook. She had never seen him like this—shattered, blistering with rage, trembling with something that was not hatred.
Something stronger.
The elevator reached the penthouse. Damian didn’t wait. He stormed through the doors and kicked them shut behind him. The locks snapped into place—one, two, three, four—metallic clacks echoing like a verdict.
Aria gasped when Damian suddenly pressed her against the wall—but not harshly. His forearm braced beside her head, caging her in, shielding her at the same time. His chest rose and fell in uneven, furious breaths.
“You could have died.”
His voice was lower now, hoarse.
“You should have died.”
Aria’s chest tightened. “I didn’t mean to—”
“Shut up.” His hand slammed beside her head, making the wall vibrate. “You ran. You ran from me. You left the tower without protection. You let those bastards get their hands on you.”
Aria’s eyes burned with tears. “Because you made me feel like a prisoner! You made me feel like I was worthless without your permission!”
Damian’s entire body went still.
Her words struck him like bullets.
He leaned forward, forehead pressing against hers, something raw and agonizing contorting his features. His breath trembled against her lips.
“I made you feel worthless,” he repeated, voice barely audible. “What they almost did to you… what they touched… what they tried to take…” His voice fractured, splintering into a whisper of agony. “I’ll never forgive myself.”
Her tears spilled over. The room blurred.
Damian cupped her face—rough palms trembling against her cheeks. Trembling. Damian Wolfe, the man who killed without blinking, shook as he held her.
“You don’t understand,” he whispered, voice barely holding together. “I lost my mind. I lost myself. I lost…” He swallowed hard. “I lost the second I realized you were gone.”
Aria stared at him, stunned. Breath frozen.
He leaned closer, so close their lips brushed with every shaking inhale.
“You don’t get to leave,” he whispered, not as a threat, not as possession.
As desperation.
“You don’t get to walk out of my world,” he said, voice breaking. “I can’t—” His throat locked. “I can’t survive it.”
Aria felt his fear. Felt his guilt. Felt the storm inside him.
She whispered, trembling, “Damian… I didn’t think you would come.”
Damian’s eyes snapped open—dark, wild, almost wounded.
“I will always come for you.”
His jaw clenched.
“I don’t care if you’re running, fighting, screaming, hiding—I will find you.”
He pressed his forehead harder against hers, trembling with every breath.
“You are not allowed to die,” he murmured, voice soft and lethal. “Not in this city. Not in this world. Not while I breathe.”
Aria’s tears slid down her cheeks, falling onto his hands.
“Why?” she whispered. “Why do you care?”
Damian exhaled like her question sliced him open.
“I don’t know,” he admitted, voice shaking. “I don’t fucking know. And it terrifies me.”
His thumb brushed her lip—not deliberately, but by accident, and the contact struck them both like lightning.
Silence.
Tension.
Hunger.
A thousand unsaid things.
Damian’s breath hitched. He pulled back an inch—just enough to stop himself from kissing her. Just enough to tear himself away before he crossed a line he swore he never would.
He spun away suddenly, fists clenched, staring at the floor like it might swallow him whole.
His voice cracked in a whisper.
“I thought I buried the part of me that could still lose something.”
He looked back at her—eyes devastated.
“But then you ran.”
Aria stepped closer. Damian didn’t move. Didn’t breathe.
She placed her hand on his chest—soft, hesitant.
His heartbeat thundered beneath her palm.
Damian shuddered.
“You don’t get to leave,” he whispered again, voice splintering. “Not from me.”
This time, Aria didn’t pull away.
And Damian didn’t either.