Aria's POV
""Damon?"
My voice cracked through the shadows of the room, thin and uncertain.
He froze in the doorway, his hand tightening on something small—a sealed envelope maybe, or was it… hair? The pale strands caught in the faint light looked too delicate, too personal, to be anything ordinary.
"What's going on?" I whispered, careful not to wake Lila. She was curled against me, her face pressed into my shoulder, breathing evenly, safe in dreams while the world around us threatened to shatter.
Damon turned, his face unreadable in the dim glow spilling from the hallway. His jaw was tense, his shoulders stiff.
But it wasn't his usual controlled steel. No—this was something raw, unsteady, like he was bracing against a truth he didn't want to face.
"Aria," he said, his voice low, roughened at the edges. "I didn't want to wake you."
I sat up slowly, shifting Lila with care, but my pulse hammered in my ears, making it hard to breathe.
