The moment the elevator doors seal shut, Aria exhales — a small, shaky breath she doesn’t even realize she’s holding. She presses the button for the executive floor, clutching the stack of reports to her chest. For once, she thinks she can make it back without being watched, followed, or dragged. Just a few seconds of quiet.
The elevator shudders.
The lights flicker.
Then go completely black.
“Damian?” she whispers on instinct, though she knows he isn’t there.
A sharp metallic scrape echoes above her. Her pulse spikes. She glances up just as the ceiling panel shifts. Hinges groan. A masked man drops into the elevator, landing silently like a shadow with a knife already drawn.
Aria screams.
The sound ricochets off the steel walls.
The assassin lunges.
Aria throws herself sideways, slamming into the rail, narrowly dodging the first strike. The knife slices her sleeve, skin beneath burning. The elevator jerks violently and starts plunging downward, bouncing between floors as the emergency brakes struggle to catch.
She fumbles for the giant red emergency button and hits it with her palm.
Nothing happens.
The masked intruder advances, blade glinting under the emergency strobe light. Aria reaches for anything — her bag, her heel, even the metal clipboard — and swings wildly. The clipboard clangs against his wrist, barely slowing him down.
“HELP!” she screams, voice cracking. “SOMEONE—!”
The elevator slams to a stop between floors. She falls to her knees.
He doesn’t.
The assassin stands tall, steady, lethal. “Navarro’s girl,” he says through the mask, voice low and gravelly. “Wolfe can’t protect you now.”
He raises the blade—
The elevator doors rip open.
Like they’re torn apart by a monster.
Damian Wolfe stands in the doorway, chest heaving, eyes wild — the kind of feral rage that promises nothing short of destruction.
Aria has never seen him like this.
“Get. Away. From her,” Damian growls.
The assassin barely turns before Damian barrels into him. The impact sends both men crashing into the opposite wall. Damian hits him again. And again. And again. Fist to bone. Bone to metal. Blood splattering in violent arcs across the steel.
“Damian!” Aria cries. “STOP! Damian—please—!”
But he can’t hear her.
Not through the blood roaring in his ears.
Not through the terror of almost losing her.
Damian straddles the man, punching relentlessly, knuckles splitting open. The assassin stops moving, but Damian doesn’t. His jaw clenches, teeth bared, eyes burning with lethal fury. He keeps hitting until the sound of impact becomes sickening.
“DAMIAN!” Aria screams again, reaching out with trembling fingers.
She touches his shoulder.
And the world freezes.
His body goes still mid-swing. His chest rises and falls like he’s drowning. Slowly, painfully, Damian turns his head toward her. The look in his eyes is not the look of a Syndicate king. It’s the look of a man who just came one breath from losing the only thing he cares about.
“Aria…” he rasps. Her name is broken, hoarse, almost reverent.
His bloody hand drops. He shoves off the body and rushes toward her, grabbing her face, her arms, her shoulders — checking for wounds, checking she’s whole, checking she’s real.
“Did he touch you?” Damian demands. “Did he hurt you? Tell me—tell me right now—”
Aria can barely breathe. “I—I’m fine. Damian, I’m—”
“You’re NOT fine!” Damian roars, voice cracking. “He nearly—fuck—he nearly—” His words crumble, swallowed by panic he can’t hide. “I could’ve lost you.”
Aria’s eyes soften with something she shouldn’t feel — something too dangerous. “Damian…”
“No,” he snaps, but it isn’t anger. It’s fear. Raw, unfiltered fear. He yanks her against him, arms crushing around her, forehead pressed to her temple like he’s trying to merge them into one heartbeat.
She gasps in shock.
Damian trembles.
Actually trembles.
“You’re safe,” he whispers fiercely. “You’re safe, you’re safe, you’re safe—”
Only when her shaking slows does he pull back. His hands cup her cheeks, thumbs stroking away tears she didn’t realize she shed.
Without another word, he lifts her into his arms — carrying her out of the elevator like she weighs nothing, like she’s fragile glass and he’s afraid the world will shatter her again.
The entire executive corridor stares.
Guards frozen. Executives silent. Blood drips from Damian’s knuckles onto the marble.
Aria hides her face in his neck, overwhelmed.
Damian doesn’t care who sees.
He storms through the hall, holding her tight, daring anyone to question the sight.
Not one person does.
***
Once the door slams, Damian sets Aria down — only to grip the wall beside her head, trapping her in a cage of his body. The air between them ignites.
He can’t keep still.
He paces. He curses viciously in three languages. He punches the wall, leaving bloody smears. Aria watches, heart twisting, realizing this isn’t rage at her.
This is terror. This is Damian breaking. He stops abruptly.
Stares at her like she’s the only thing left holding him to the world.
“I can’t keep you safe,” he says finally — broken, gutted. “Not here. Not anywhere. Every time I turn around someone wants to take you, hurt you, kill you—”
Aria steps toward him, voice barely a whisper. “Damian…”
“No.” His voice cracks. “Don’t come closer.”
She comes closer anyway. She puts her trembling hand over his heart.
Damian’s breath stutters. His eyes close. His jaw clenches like the touch is pain and salvation at once.
“I trust you,” Aria whispers. “More than anyone.”
Damian opens his eyes — and the way he looks at her makes her knees weaken.
Her name falls from his lips like a vow.
Like a confession.
Like a sin.
“Aria…” he whispers, as if saying it might undo him. “You don’t know what you’re doing to me.”
She steps closer.
He doesn’t step away.
And in that moment — bloody, trembling, furious, terrified — Damian Wolfe looks at her like she is the one thing capable of destroying him…
…and the only thing he would burn the world to protect.