The night was thick with silence, save for the steady hum of Damien's car cutting through the empty roads. The city lights flickered past in a blur, but inside the vehicle, the atmosphere was suffocating.
Liyana sat stiffly in the passenger seat, Damien's oversized jacket draped over her shoulders, its warmth lingering with his scent. Yet, it wasn't the chill in the air that made her skin prickle—it was him. The way his knuckles were bone-white against the steering wheel, his jaw clenched so tight she wondered if he'd break his teeth.
She stole a glance at him. His face was unreadable, carved from ice and rage.
But the worst part? He hadn't spoken a single word since they left.
Her hands trembled in her lap, fists clenching to stop the shake. She should say something—thank him, maybe, or demand why he looked like he was barely restraining himself from snapping. But the words lodged in her throat like a stone.
Finally, she turned toward the window, staring at her reflection. Her face looked paler than usual, her lips dry, her hair still messy from the struggle.
She was alive.Yet, the way Damien was gripping the wheel, it felt like he was the one who had almost died tonight.
The elevator doors slid open with a soft chime, revealing the sprawling luxury of Damien's private penthouse. The sleek marble floors gleamed under the golden glow of the chandeliers, but the cold, intimidating aura of the place felt just like him—impossibly powerful, dangerously controlled.
Liyana barely had time to process her surroundings before his grip tightened on her wrist.
"Wait—"
The word barely escaped her lips before he pulled her inside. The doors clicked shut behind them, sealing her in his world.
Damien finally turned, his eyes dark, burning with something she couldn't name.
"You're staying here."
His voice was low, firm, unshakable.
Liyana inhaled sharply, her chest rising and falling. "You can't just—"
"I can," he cut her off, stepping closer. "And I will."
The finality in his tone sent a shiver down her spine.
She lifted her chin, defiant despite the exhaustion threatening to drag her down. "Damien, I can take care of myself."
His lips curled—not in amusement, but something colder. "Is that what you call what happened tonight?"
The accusation in his voice was like a whip across her skin.
Liyana's breath hitched, but she refused to break under his stare.
"You have no right to do this," she shot back, voice sharp.
Damien's jaw ticked. Then, in one swift motion, he was in front of her, hands braced against the glass window behind her, trapping her. The city skyline stretched endlessly beyond them, but all she could see was him.
"You think I had a choice?" His voice dropped into a whisper, lethal and intimate.
Her heart slammed against her ribs.
"I almost lost you tonight, Liyana."
His fingers curled into fists against the glass.
"You think I could just walk away? Let another man take you from me?"
She swallowed, but the lump in her throat wouldn't go down.
Something in his gaze wasn't just anger. It was possession. Raw. Unfiltered. Dangerous.
She couldn't move. Didn't want to.
His breath was warm against her cheek, his presence overwhelming. "You don't understand, do you?"
A slow, cruel smirk tugged at his lips. His fingers traced along her jaw, tipping her face up.
"You're mine, Liyana."
The air between them snapped like a live wire.
Liyana's breath came in short, uneven gasps. She shoved him back.
"I'm not yours," she whispered, more to herself than him.
Damien barely moved, only watching her with dark amusement.
"You keep saying that," he murmured. "But your body tells a different story."
Her cheeks flamed, anger and something else twisting inside her. "You're impossible."
His smirk faded, his expression growing serious. "And you're reckless."
She turned away, moving toward the guest room without another word.
Damien let her go—but only for now.