Blood dripped from Aria’s arm in a thin red trail behind Damian as he carried her through the executive floor. The tower, usually a machine of polished efficiency, froze. Phones stopped ringing. Conversations cut off mid-sentence. Every guard, every assistant, every executive stared as Damian Wolfe strode past them with murder carved into every line of his body.
“Seal every exit,” Damian growled, his voice a low thunder that vibrated through the floor. “Nobody leaves. Nobody breathes without my permission.”
The building obeyed.
Steel shutters slammed down. Magnetic locks clicked into place. The hum of the emergency lockdown shivered through the walls like a prelude to war.
Aria whimpered softly where she lay against his chest. Damian’s grip tightened instantly. “Don’t talk,” he ordered, though the harshness clashed with the panic in his eyes. “Save your strength.”
Blood coated his sleeve. Her blood. Each drop seemed to hollow something inside him.
When they reached the infirmary, the medic rushed forward—only to stop dead when Damian bared his teeth.
“Touch her wrong,” Damian growled, “and you lose your hands.”
The medic trembled, nodding rapidly. Aria tried to sit up, insisting she was fine, but Damian pressed her gently—gently—back to the bed.
“You’re bleeding,” he said, voice cracking before he caught it. “You’re not fine.”
She blinked at him, dazed. “Damian… she tried to—”
“Don’t.” His gaze flicked to her wound, fury and fear twisting together. “I’ll deal with Sabrina.”
The medic cleaned the gash, stitching carefully. Damian never looked away from Aria, pacing like a wolf trapped in too small a cage. Every time she flinched at the needle, he flinched harder.
When the treatment was over, Damian scooped her into his arms again without warning.
“Damian—”
“You’re going to the penthouse. You are not walking through this tower bleeding.” He didn’t care that his men were watching. He didn’t care about appearances or power or pride. He cared about her being alive. That was it.
He pressed his thumb to the elevator biometric scanner. The doors slid open.
Inside the elevator, silence pressed between them. Aria leaned weakly against his chest, exhaustion dragging her eyelids down. Damian’s jaw clenched so hard the muscle jumped.
“Why did you leave the floor?” he asked, voice deceptively calm.
Aria swallowed. “Sabrina said she had proof about—”
“Don’t say her name.” His voice vibrated with pure hatred. “Don’t even think it.”
Aria exhaled shakily. “Damian, she wanted to hurt me because of you.”
His eyes snapped to hers. Dark. Terrified. Violent.
“I know,” he said, voice low. “And that’s why she’s dead.”
Aria stiffened. “Damian—no—”
The elevator doors opened before she could finish.
He carried her straight to his bedroom, placed her carefully on the bed, and locked the room with four separate biometric seals. As each lock clicked into place, his breath grew harsher.
When the final lock engaged, Damian pressed his palms against the door and bowed his head like he was praying—praying or breaking.
Aria watched him, chest tight. “Damian… talk to me.”
He didn’t turn around.
“When I saw the blood on your arm,” he said quietly, “I thought it was your throat.”
Aria’s breath caught.
Damian slowly faced her. His eyes—usually cold and calculated—were wildfire.
“I thought she slit your throat,” he said again, voice cracking in a way she had never heard. “I thought you were dead before I even got to you.”
He took a stumbling step toward her.
“I ran through eight floors,” he whispered. “I ran until I almost tore the building apart.”
Her lips parted. “Damian…”
“No,” he snapped, shutting his eyes. “You don’t understand.”
He stepped to the bed and braced his hands on either side of her hips, caging her in.
“When I saw you bleeding,” he said, his voice trembling with fury, “I wanted to end the entire Syndicate. I wanted every last one of them to choke.”
Aria reached for him instinctively. Damian caught her wrist—not harsh, but desperate—and held it against his chest, over his pounding heart.
“Look at me,” he demanded.
She did.
“This,” he whispered, “is what happens when someone touches you.”
The beat of his heart thrashed under her palm, wild, frantic, terrified.
Aria’s eyes softened. “Damian…”
“Don’t.” He leaned closer, forehead nearly touching hers. “Don’t say my name like that.”
“Like what?”
“Like you forgive me,” he breathed.
Her throat tightened. “Do you want me to hate you?”
“Yes.” His voice broke. “God, yes. It would be easier.”
He pulled back sharply, as if afraid of what he might do if he stayed close.
“I’m locking you in the penthouse,” he said, forcing steel back into his tone. “Jaxon will guard the elevator. No one comes near you. No one.”
Aria sat up slowly. “Damian… please don’t make decisions out of fear.”
He laughed—a sharp, broken sound.
“Fear?” He turned toward her with something deadly in his eyes. “Fear is all I’ve felt since the night you ran.”
Aria’s breath stilled.
“You left me,” he whispered, voice raw. “I tore the city apart for you. I killed for you. I bled for you. And you left.”
Her eyes filled with tears. “You told me I was nothing to you.”
Damian flinched as if she’d struck him.
“That was the lie,” he said softly. “Not this.”
He took her face in both hands. His thumbs brushed her cheekbones, trembling.
“This,” he whispered, voice breaking, “is the truth.”
Aria leaned into his touch despite herself.
“Damian,” she whispered. “I’m scared.”
“So am I,” he breathed.
Thunder rumbled outside even though the storm had passed.
Aria placed her hand over his. “Stay with me tonight.”
Damian froze.
A war raged in his eyes—hate, desire, fear, longing.
Finally, he nodded once.
But he didn’t crawl into the bed.
He sat on the floor beside it, back against the frame, close enough that their shoulders touched.
Aria slid down, resting beside him. She laid her head against his shoulder. Damian’s breath hitched—but he didn’t pull away.
For a long time, they sat in silence, the tower humming around them like a wounded beast.
Finally, Damian whispered, “I will find Sabrina.”
Aria closed her eyes. “Don’t kill her.”
Damian turned his head slightly. “I don’t make promises I can’t keep.”
She reached for his hand.
This time, he let her take it.
This time, he squeezed back.