A chill settled over the private booth as Damon's eyes locked onto the anonymous figure. The casual smirk on his face vanished, replaced by something sharp, something dangerous. His earlier amusement evaporated like mist under fire.
It was him.
He would recognize him anymore. That calm demeanour, that casual look on his face, that innocent smile he wore. One look at him, and a person would feel as if they could trust him.
But Damon knew better. That face, unremarkable, almost forgettable, hid something monstrous underneath. In his past life, that same smile had preceded the guy stabbing him in his back. Literally.
The guy had stood with him through many things, through lows and highs, through humiliation and pain, but in the end, when it mattered the most, when Damon had been so close to achieving what he wanted, he had stabbed him in the back.
Aiden!
