The first light of dawn barely touched the curtains when Elena stirred. She hadn't slept all night, her body stiff under the weight of Vincent's arm draped possessively across her waist. His breathing was slow, steady — the sound of a man who had no reason to worry.
But then, his phone rang.
The sound cut through the stillness like a blade. Vincent's arm tightened briefly before he pulled away and sat up, grabbing the device from the nightstand. He didn't look at her, didn't notice her closed eyes.
"Speak," he said flatly.
The change in his voice was instant — a sharp edge replacing the lazy drawl she had grown used to.
"What do you mean the shipment's stuck?" His tone darkened. "Dock security's crawling all over it? Since when?"
Elena's breath slowed deliberately, feigning the rhythm of sleep. But her ears strained, catching every word.
"Your guy down there says someone's feeding customs our schedules?" Vincent's voice rose, harsh enough to make the hair on her arms stand on end. "Find the leak. Now. I don't care if you have to drag them out by their throat."
There was a pause.
"No excuses," he snapped. "I don't care about protocol. I want names before I get there — and if you give me the wrong one, you'll wish you hadn't answered this call."
The bed shifted as he stood, pacing near the window. She could almost see the way his hand raked through his hair, the slight forward lean of his body — a predator ready to strike.
"Double the men. I don't want anyone breathing near those containers unless they answer directly to me. And if our rivals so much as touch a crate…" His voice dropped to a low, lethal murmur. "Sink their ship."
Elena's heart thudded in her chest. The calm, controlled man she'd seen brushing her hair the night before was gone. This was another Vincent — colder, sharper, terrifying in his precision.
The call ended with a curt, "Be ready when I arrive."
He turned, his eyes scanning the bed. For a heartbeat, she thought he'd caught her watching. But his gaze softened — or at least, it became less sharp — when he saw her still, her face half-buried in the pillow.
Vincent crossed the room quietly, pulling the blanket higher over her shoulder before leaning down. His lips brushed against her hair, a fleeting, almost unconscious gesture. Then he left the bedroom without another sound.
Only when his footsteps faded did Elena open her eyes, her pulse racing. She had heard enough to know one thing — this problem was big enough to pull him away. And if he left… she would have her chance.
She waited. Minutes stretched. The apartment filled with faint movement and low voices — Vincent's men speaking in clipped tones.
"…shipment's delayed…"
"…dock security doubled…"
"…worth millions…"
"…someone tipped them off…"
It was all confirmation of what she'd heard.
The front door opened again. Footsteps. And then… Damien's voice.
"Well, isn't this cozy?"
She tensed instinctively as he walked into the room. His eyes found her immediately, and that familiar smirk tugged at his mouth.
"Morning, Elena," he said, leaning against the doorframe as if he had all the time in the world.
Her expression stayed neutral. "Morning."
"You know, you're the most interesting thing in this apartment." His gaze lingered. "And trust me, that's saying something."
Before she could respond, Vincent appeared behind him, his expression carved from stone. "Why are you here?"
Damien didn't look away from her. "You've got problems at the docks. Thought I'd lend a hand."
"I didn't ask for your help," Vincent replied, his voice clipped.
"That's the thing about help," Damien said with a shrug. "Sometimes it shows up whether you want it or not."
The tension between them was thick enough to choke on. Elena sat very still, watching the way Vincent's jaw flexed.
Damien's gaze slid back to her. "Of course, if you're busy, I could keep her company while you deal with it."
Vincent's eyes narrowed dangerously. "You won't."
The smirk never left Damien's face, but his eyes glinted with something sharper — amusement, maybe, or challenge. "Relax, cousin. She's safe with me."
Elena didn't miss the way Vincent stepped closer, his presence crowding the space until Damien had to move back a step.
"Stay out of my way," Vincent said, his voice like ice.
Damien raised his hands in mock surrender, though his grin only widened. "Sure. I'll just be around."
When he left, Vincent's gaze lingered on Elena. "Don't talk to him."
"I wasn't planning to," she said quietly.
"Good," he murmured, but his tone carried an unspoken warning.
She watched him turn away, already on the phone again, his voice low and urgent. He was distracted. Focused on the docks. The moment she'd been waiting for was close — she could feel it.
And when he finally left…
She would run.
But as she glanced toward the window, she didn't notice Damien's shadow passing in the hallway — his head tilting, his gaze lingering just long enough to catch the faint glint of the loosened latch.
The corner of his mouth curved.
"Going somewhere, pretty girl?"
Her head snapped toward the voice — Damien, leaning against the doorway like he'd been there the whole time, a cigarette lazily burning between his fingers. His smirk didn't reach his eyes.
Elena's pulse roared in her ears. "Move."
He took a slow drag, exhaling smoke in the shape of a grin. "I could… or I could help you."
That threw her. "Help me?"
Damien's gaze lingered on her face, sharp and assessing, like he was peeling back her thoughts. "Vincent's busy. Won't be back for hours. You want out? I can make that happen."
Her fingers tightened on the windowsill. "Why?"
His smirk deepened, but there was something darker in his eyes now — amusement laced with danger. "Maybe I like seeing people take risks. Maybe I just want to see how far you'd get before the city eats you alive."
Her heartbeat stumbled. Every instinct screamed not to trust him, but the window was open, the cold air biting at her skin, and his words dripped possibility.
"I'm not your enemy, Elena," he murmured, stepping closer. "But if you want my help… you'll owe me."
The distance between them felt suddenly dangerous in more ways than one.
"Think about it," Damien said, brushing past her toward the hallway. "I'll be waiting."
She stared after him, breathless, the city sprawling below her and his offer coiling in her mind like a snake.
Freedom was right there.
But at what cost?