The night split open with gunfire. Muzzle flashes sparked like lightning against the SUVs, each crack of bullets ricocheting through Elena's bones.
She curled into the corner of the backseat, hands shaking, her heartbeat deafening in her ears. She had been in danger before—clients, lawsuits, angry boardrooms—but this was something else. This was war.
Damian moved like the chaos was his element. Calm. Precise. Terrifyingly certain. He shoved her low, his chest pressing into her back as his arm braced across her. The heat of him was unbearable, suffocating, yet grounding.
"Stay down," he ordered, his voice a steady blade in the storm.
Elena's throat constricted. Fear screamed at her, but fury pushed harder. He had brought her into this. He had lied. And still—still—her body sought his protection like it was wired into her bones.
The sedan jolted violently as another SUV rammed them. Glass shattered, slicing across her cheek. Warmth trickled down her skin.
Damian's gaze snapped to her instantly. For one heartbeat, his mask cracked—fury, fear, something sharp and raw flashing in his eyes. Then it vanished behind lethal focus. He cupped her face, rough thumb brushing the blood from her skin, and growled, "You're fine."
Fine. She was bleeding, terrified, trapped in a nightmare—and yet the touch of his hand burned through her like it mattered more than the wound.
The car screeched to a stop, pinned between SUVs. Doors ripped open. Shadows advanced.
Damian cursed, yanking Elena out with him. His hand locked around hers, dragging her into the smoke-stained night.
The air reeked of gasoline, of powder, of fear. Damian shoved her behind the wreckage of their car, his body braced against hers as he fired back with steady, merciless precision.
This wasn't a polished CEO. This was a man who carried violence like a second skin.
Elena's stomach turned—but when his arm came around her waist, pulling her against the barrier, her pulse betrayed her. Safe. Unsafe. Hi. Not his.
Another gunman charged. Damian spun, catching him with a brutal kick. The man crumpled. Without hesitation, Damian fired again—point-blank.
Elena flinched. The sound, the sight, the reality of it—her breath stuttered. She should have been horrified. She was horrified. But she couldn't stop her eyes from following him, couldn't stop her body from trusting his strength as if it belonged to her.
"Move!" he barked, dragging her toward a gap between SUVs.
Her heels slipped, her body faltered, but Damian's grip was unrelenting, his hand iron around hers.
"Where—" she gasped.
"Out," he snarled, firing again without looking.
The ramp ahead was swarming with men. Elena froze, chest collapsing. "We'll never—"
"Don't look at them," he cut in, his voice low and fierce. His eyes locked on hers, pinning her to him. "Look at me."
And she did. Against reason, against fear, her gaze anchored on his. The world blurred away, swallowed by the steadiness in his stare.
They ran.
Halfway up the ramp, another SUV blocked the exit. More men poured out.
Elena's knees weakened. "We're trapped."
Damian shoved her behind a concrete barrier, pressing flush against her back. The hard wall dug into her shoulders, but all she felt was his chest against hers, his breath warm against her ear.
"Listen to me." His voice was a whisper, rough and intimate despite the gunfire. "I will get you out of this. But you have to trust me."
Her laugh cracked, half a sob. "Trust you? You lied, you used me, you—"
"Trust me now," he demanded, his lips brushing the shell of her ear. "Or we both die here."
Her body trembled, caught between rage and the terrifying pull of him. She hated him. She trusted him. She couldn't separate the two anymore.
She nodded. Small. Broken. But real.
Damian's gaze softened for a flicker, then he pressed something cold into her palm. A gun.
Elena's breath caught. "I—I can't—"
"You can." His hand covered hers, steady and unyielding. His warmth bled into her, his grip anchoring her shaking fingers to the weapon. "If they get past me, you aim. You fire. Don't think. Just do it."
Her heart pounded so violently she thought it would break. She had never held a gun. Never imagined she'd need to. And yet, with his hand wrapped over hers, she believed she could.
Then he was gone, stepping into the open like he was made for the darkness.
He fired. Precise. Deadly. Each shot an echo of certainty.
Elena crouched, clutching the gun so tightly her knuckles ached. Fear roared inside her, but beneath it something else stirred—Damian's steadiness seeping into her veins.
A man broke from cover, charging straight at her. His weapon raised. His eyes locked on hers.
Time fractured.
Elena raised the gun. Her hands trembled, but Damian's voice echoed in her head—don't think. Just do it.
She fired.
The recoil jolted up her arms. The crack split her ears. The man stumbled, cursing, dropping his weapon.
Elena froze, chest heaving, shock crashing into her. She had hit him.
Damian's voice cut through the haze, sharp and approving. "Good."
The word shouldn't have made her feel anything. But heat spread through her chest anyway, tangled and dangerous.
Flames erupted as Damian's shot tore into a gas tank. Fire roared, swallowing the chaos.
"Now!" He seized her hand again, dragging her through smoke and sparks, up the ramp, into the cold night.
The city lights blazed harsh against the darkness, sirens wailing in the distance.
Damian shoved her into another waiting car, sliding in beside her. His tuxedo was torn, his jaw streaked with soot, his eyes fierce and unyielding.
Elena collapsed into the seat, clutching the gun with trembling fingers.
Her eyes found him, raw and desperate. "Who are you?" she whispered.
Damian leaned back, exhaling slowly. His gaze locked on her, unreadable and consuming.
"The man keeping you alive."