The day started like any other.
Maya woke to the soft cooing of her daughter. Lila's tiny hands waved in the air, demanding attention, sunlight streaming through the curtains and catching in her dark hair. Maya leaned down, kissing her daughter's forehead.
"Good morning, love," she whispered.
Lila gurgled in reply, a sound that made Maya's heart ache with joy. No matter how tired she was, no matter how heavy the days felt, this little girl made everything worth it.
They shared breakfast at the small kitchen table — oatmeal for Maya, mashed fruit for Lila, who managed to smear more on her cheeks than actually eat it. Maya laughed softly, wiping her daughter's face.
Their apartment was modest, tucked in a quieter corner of the city. It wasn't much, but it was theirs. She had fought for every bit of safety, every piece of furniture, every little star Ana had painted on the walls of Lila's room.
She was proud of it.
And fiercely protective of it.
So when the knock came at the door that afternoon, heavy and insistent, her stomach twisted.
No one knocked like that.
She froze in the living room, Lila perched on her hip.
Another knock, louder this time.
"Maya."
Her blood ran cold.
That voice. Deep, commanding, unmistakable.
It couldn't be.
She stumbled back a step, clutching Lila closer. Her heart thundered in her chest. Months of silence, months of believing she was free, and suddenly he was here.
Damon Blackthorn.
Her ex-husband. Her mistake. Her child's father.
"Maya," he called again, voice lower now. Almost… restrained. "Open the door."
She couldn't move. Her mind screamed at her to run, to hide, but her body betrayed her, rooted to the spot.
Lila whimpered softly, sensing the tension. Maya pressed a kiss to her hair, whispering, "Shh, it's okay. I've got you."
But even as she said it, she wasn't sure it was true.
The knocking stopped.
Silence.
For a brief, wild moment, she thought maybe she had imagined it. Maybe her mind had conjured him out of fear.
And then the lock clicked.
Her breath caught.
The door swung open.
And there he was.
Damon filled the doorway, tall and broad, his presence as overwhelming as ever. His silver eyes locked on hers instantly, sharp and burning. For a second, the world seemed to stop, the space between them charged and dangerous.
He looked the same and yet different. His suit was sharp, his shoulders tense, his jaw shadowed with stubble as if sleep hadn't visited him in days. But his eyes—God, his eyes. They weren't cold anymore. They were hungry.
"Maya," he said, her name almost a growl.
Her breath hitched.
"Get out," she snapped, surprising even herself with the steadiness of her voice.
But then Lila squirmed in her arms, letting out a small cry.
And Damon's gaze dropped.
The change was instant.
His entire body went still. His eyes widened, the silver gleaming sharper, brighter, as they fixed on the tiny child in her arms.
For a moment, he didn't breathe.
Maya's pulse hammered in her throat. She held Lila tighter, stepping back instinctively.
"No," she whispered. "Don't you dare."
But Damon's wolf was already surging to the surface, his scent thickening, filling the room. His gaze locked on Lila, and his voice came out rough, broken.
"That's—" His throat worked. "Maya. That's mine."
Her stomach twisted. "She's not yours," she spat. "She's mine."
His gaze snapped to hers, fury and disbelief swirling in those silver depths. "You kept her from me?"
"You don't get to act outraged!" Maya shouted, the months of pain and anger boiling over. "You let me walk away. You chose your curse, your pride, your damn council over me. Over us."
Damon's jaw clenched, his fists curling at his sides. His wolf snarled in the room, but beneath the rage was something else. Something raw.
"I didn't know," he rasped. His eyes flicked back to Lila, softer now. Almost reverent. "Gods, Maya… she's—"
"She's mine," Maya cut in, voice sharp. "You don't get to swoop in now. You don't get to take her."
The air between them was thick with tension, charged and volatile.
Damon stepped forward, slow, deliberate. Maya backed up instantly, clutching Lila like a shield.
"Stay back," she hissed.
"I'm not going to hurt her," he said, voice low but firm. "I could never—" His voice broke off, as if the words themselves threatened to undo him.
He took another step, his gaze never leaving the baby. "What's her name?"
Maya's lips pressed into a thin line. "You don't deserve to know."
His jaw tightened. "Maya."
Silence stretched between them, broken only by Lila's soft babbling.
Finally, Maya whispered, "Lila."
Something flickered across his face. His chest rose sharply, as if the name itself had struck him. He swallowed hard, silver eyes glistening in a way she'd never seen before.
"Lila," he repeated, the word rough in his throat.
Lila, oblivious to the storm around her, reached a tiny hand toward him.
Damon froze. His eyes locked on that small gesture, his entire body trembling with restraint. Slowly, carefully, he reached out a hand, but stopped short, hovering inches away.
Maya's heart twisted violently.
She hated him. She loved him. She feared him. She needed him.
And right now, she didn't know which was stronger.
The silence broke with a sharp knock.
Ana's voice called from the hall. "May? You okay in there?"
Relief flooded her chest. She moved quickly, backing away from Damon as Ana stepped inside.
Ana froze when she saw him. Her eyes widened, and then narrowed dangerously.
"You," she hissed.
Damon didn't look at her. His gaze was still fixed on Maya and Lila.
"I'm not leaving," he said, voice steel. "Not this time."
Maya's grip tightened on her daughter, fury and fear clashing inside her.
"Then you'll have to fight me for her," she said coldly.
Damon's eyes snapped to hers, a dangerous vow blazing there.
"I already lost you once," he growled. "I won't lose her too."