Celeste woke to the sound of voices. Low, urgent, muffled by the walls of Damien's penthouse. She slipped from the bed, bare feet silent against the polished floor, and followed the sound to a half-open door at the end of the hall.
Inside, Damien stood with two men she didn't recognize. One was tall and wiry, the other built like a wall. On the desk between them lay a black leather ledger, its pages covered in neat, slanted handwriting.
She shouldn't have looked. But she did.
Her name was there. Not once. Not twice. Dozens of times.
Dates. Locations. Amounts. And beside each entry, a single word: ASSET.
Her stomach turned cold.
Damien's voice cut through the haze. "You're awake."
She looked up to find him watching her, the other men already gone. The ledger was closed now, his hand resting on it like a guard dog.
"What is that?" she asked, her voice sharper than she intended.
"Business," he said.
"I'm not your business."
His gaze didn't waver. "You are now."
She took a step forward. "You've been tracking me. For how long?"
"Long enough to know you were in danger before you even knew my name."
Her pulse pounded in her ears. "Danger from who?"
He hesitated — and that hesitation was her answer.
"From you," she whispered.
Damien's jaw tightened. "From the people who want what I have. And right now, Celeste, that includes you."
She shook her head, backing away. "You've been using me."
"I've been protecting you," he said, his voice low, dangerous. "The two aren't always different."
Her hand found the doorknob. "I don't know if I can trust you."
He stepped closer, his shadow swallowing hers. "You don't have to trust me. You just have to stay alive."
And in that moment, Celeste realized the truth was worse than she'd imagined — because whatever Damien Voss was protecting her from… he might have created it.