I spent the rest of the afternoon locked in my office, staring out the window at London's skyline while my mind churned through everything Adrian had revealed. The doubts he had planted about our mate bond felt like poison spreading through my system, making me question every moment of certainty I had experienced with Damon.
Was our connection real, or had it been orchestrated by Eleanor and forces I didn't understand? Did it matter if the foundation was artificial, as long as what we had built together was genuine? And most importantly, could I trust my own feelings when I didn't know what was real and what was manipulation?
The sun was setting behind the glass towers of Canary Wharf when a soft knock interrupted my brooding. I had given strict instructions not to be disturbed, which meant either there was an emergency or—
"It's me," Damon's voice came through the door, quiet and uncertain in a way I had never heard from him before.
