The penthouse overlooked the sleeping city like a throne suspended above darkness, its towering windows drenched in silver moonlight while distant traffic flickered far below like dying stars scattered beneath the night, and within that vast silence Damien Cross stood alone beside the glass with one hand resting loosely around a crystal tumbler untouched for nearly an hour.
The room smelled faintly of expensive smoke and rain drifting through an open balcony door, yet none of it eased the restless tension coiling steadily beneath Damien's skin while thoughts of Elara continued invading his mind with a persistence that bordered dangerously on obsession.
He had tried to ignore it.
Tried to dismiss her as another passing fascination.
Another beautiful mystery crossing briefly through immortal boredom.
But she resisted him.
And that—
That changed everything.
