The mansion was silent when Evelyn pushed open the living room doors. The air itself seemed to tighten, like it was waiting for something to break.
Damien stood by the tall windows, his reflection fractured in the glass — part shadow, part flame.
Her voice cut through the silence, trembling with fury.
"You had no right to humiliate Charles like that."
Damien didn't turn around. "He had no right to touch what isn't his."
Evelyn's breath hitched. "I'm not something you own."
Now he turned — slowly, dangerously calm — and the look in his eyes made her step back.
"Then why," he asked softly, "do you still tremble every time I come near you?"
Her pulse betrayed her before her words could. "Because you terrify me."
He took a step closer. "And yet you came to me."
"I came to tell you that I'm done letting you control me!" she snapped, shoving at his chest. But Damien caught her wrists — not rough, not cruel — just enough to stop her.
Their faces were inches apart. The air between them burned.
"Control?" he murmured. "Evelyn, if I truly wanted control… you'd never be standing here arguing with me."
The words froze her. He let her wrists go, his fingers sliding away slowly, deliberately. Her skin tingled where his touch had been.
She hated that her heart didn't understand the difference between fear and longing.
From the doorway, Charles' voice broke the tension.
"Evelyn!"
She turned toward him instinctively — and that one motion, that single second of hesitation, broke whatever restraint Damien had left.
He stepped forward, his hand cupping the side of her face — not forceful, but unyielding. His voice was low, dark, dangerous.
"Look at me. Not him."
Evelyn's lips parted, her breath shaking. "Damien—"
"Tell me you don't feel it."
"I—" She faltered, and that was enough.
Before she could speak again, Damien leaned closer — not kissing her, not yet — just close enough that his breath ghosted across her skin, a warning and a promise all at once.
From the corner of his eye, he saw Charles tense. Damien didn't look away from her when he spoke.
"Get him out of my house."
A flick of his hand, and the guards appeared as if from the walls themselves. Charles protested, shouting her name, but Evelyn couldn't hear anything anymore except the pounding in her chest and Damien's voice, low and calm against the chaos.
When the doors finally closed and silence fell again, Damien looked down at her — the storm in his eyes barely contained.
He brushed a strand of hair from her face, his tone softer now, almost tender.
"You don't understand, Evelyn. I don't want your obedience. I want your truth."
Her eyes met his — angry, confused, and drawn to him all the same.
"You make that impossible," she whispered.
He smiled faintly, pain flickering through it.
"Then let me try again."
The tension between them shifted — still dark, still dangerous, but alive. Evelyn didn't step away this time.
Outside, thunder rolled over the estate. Inside, the storm had already begun.