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The door shut behind the last man, the sound echoing like a gunshot.
For a long moment, silence hung between them.
Damian stood at the far end of the room, one hand resting on the edge of the long mahogany table, his body still, but his eyes locked on her with unnerving precision.
Aria didn't flinch. She didn't lower her gaze. She crossed the room slowly, her heels clicking on the polished floor like a countdown.
He watched every step.
"Five years," she said quietly, voice smooth. "You disappeared."
His jaw tightened. "You were safe."
"That's not what I said." She stopped just short of the desk, her head tilting slightly. "No messages. No calls. Not even a whisper."
"You had everything you needed."
"I didn't need things, Damian," she whispered. "I needed you."
The air snapped between them. Just like that, the weight of all those missing years began to settle in the space between their breaths.
Damian's voice dropped to a near growl. "You weren't supposed to miss me."
She smiled—soft and deadly. "But I did. Is that what you're afraid of?"
His gaze darkened, and for a second, the mask cracked. Just a second.
Aria stepped around the desk slowly, eyes never leaving his. "You vanished and expected me to sit in that cold mansion and just wait, like some little doll on a shelf."
"I expected you to survive," he said roughly.
"I did. And I did it beautifully," she murmured, her voice now laced with challenge. "You left a girl behind, Damian. But I became a woman without you."
She was close now—so close he could smell her perfume, warm and faintly sweet, like roses dipped in danger.
He moved suddenly, turning to face her fully, and Aria's pulse skipped.
"Do you think this world is kind to women like you?" he asked lowly. "Do you think it's safe?"
"No," she said. "But I'm not afraid of it."
His gaze dropped briefly to her lips before returning to her eyes. "You should be."
Her smile twisted. "You taught me better than that."
He stepped back, jaw clenched. "You shouldn't have come here."
"I had every right to."
He didn't answer, just turned toward the window, the night spilling in behind his silhouette.
"I'm not your little fox anymore, Damian," she said, voice softer now.
"No," he said after a pause. "You're not."
And the worst part?
He sounded almost… disappointed.
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