Two arms wrapped around him.
Not weak. Not trembling.
Protective.
Her fingers brushed through his soft black hair as she pulled him against her chest. Her body shielded his completely.
For a man who had spent his entire life guarding himself—
The sensation was unfamiliar.
Warm.
Steady.
Dangerous.
"Don't look back," she whispered.
She turned them, positioning herself between him and the balcony.
"Are you trying to get yourself killed?" he asked sharply.
"Listen to me," she said, voice steady. "He's here for you. He won't shoot anyone else."
"How do you know that?"
"I can see his angle."
Another shot cracked through the air, missing by inches.
"I need you to distract him," she said urgently.
"How am I supposed to do that if you won't let me go?"
"If I let you go, you die."
A beat.
"Anything," she murmured. "Just a split second."
He studied her.
"Anything?"
"Anything."
Slowly, deliberately, Damian loosened her hold.
Then he tilted her chin upward.
And kissed her.
Not rushed.
Not desperate.
Calculated.
His lips were warm. Controlled. Intentional.
For a fraction of a second—
Elina forgot the gunman.
But only for a second.
Her hand slipped beneath the fabric of her dress.
The weapon came free.
The kiss broke.
She pivoted.
And fired.
The bullet struck clean.
The gunman collapsed against the railing.
Silence followed.
"It's over," she said softly, stepping back.
And that was when Damian saw it.
The blood.
Dark red soaking through her sleeve.
"You're bleeding."
She glanced down at her arm and smiled faintly.
"I didn't miss."
"You were hit."
"It's nothing."
"I'm a doctor," he said firmly. "Let me help you."
For the first time, something flickered in her eyes.
Conflict.
This was too close.
Too personal.
But if she refused—
Suspicion.
"Okay," she said quietly. "But not here."
The Abandoned Building
They drove in silence.
No music.
No conversation.
Only tension.
Inside an old abandoned warehouse on the edge of the city, Damian cleaned the wound under dim light.
She sat on a wooden chair, watching him.
He was focused.
Gentle.
Efficient.
Not cruel.
Not arrogant.
Careful.
Too careful.
"You do this often?" she asked softly.
"Patch up bullet wounds?" he replied without looking at her. "More than I'd like."
His mask lay discarded beside him now.
When he finally looked up—
She saw his full face.
And for a moment—
She forgot her mission entirely.
He wasn't perfect because he was handsome.
He was dangerous because he was composed.
"Why did you protect me?" he asked quietly.
"You were the target."
"That's not what I asked."
She held his gaze.
"You needed protecting."
Something shifted in his expression.
After wrapping the bandage, he leaned back slightly.
"I'm sorry."
"For what?"
"For kissing you. I don't even know who you are."
She allowed the faintest smile.
"You said anything."
A silence passed between them.
Loaded.
Complicated.
"It's time for me to go," she said.
He stood.
"Who are you?"
She walked toward the stairs.
"I'm afraid I can't tell you that."
She paused at the bottom step.
"But we will meet again."
Outside.
She pulled out her phone.
"Sir," she said calmly, watching the warehouse window above. "Target Ghost has been confirmed."
A pause.
"Project Kings is a go."
Flashback – Days Before the Ball
"In a few days, the Corvens will host their Masked Ball," Harris said. "You will infiltrate. Confirm whether Target Ghost is active."
"Who is Ghost?" she asked.
"Damian Corven. The first illegitimate son within the household. A doctor by profession."
She blinked once.
"Your mission: analyze the internal structure. Confirm if Project Kings can proceed."
"Yes, sir."
Present Day
The news exploded across media outlets.
"Gunshot at Corven Estate."
Reporters swarmed.
Inside his study, Antony sat silent.
"Sir," Mr. Matthew said, "today is the domestic staff interview. Should we postpone?"
Antony's eyes darkened.
"No. We will not appear afraid."
"As you wish."
The Infiltration
Mr. Matthew sat in the living room, interviewing candidates one by one.
He was known as the gatekeeper of the Corven estate.
The first wall.
Elina sat in a maid's uniform.
Hair neatly tied back.
Smile measured.
Posture perfect.
Her back faced the staircase.
Footsteps descended.
Damian stopped mid-step.
Even from behind—
He knew.
The shoulders.
The stillness.
The controlled presence.
It was her.
He approached slowly.
Each step confirming it.
Finally, he tapped her shoulder.
She turned.
Mr. Matthew stood immediately.
"Young Master, can I assist you?"
Damian's eyes never left hers.
"I just need to confirm something."
He looked directly at her.
"What's your name?"
She held his gaze without hesitation.
"My name is Elina Morgens."
A small, polite smile.
"It's nice to meet you."
And for the first time—
Damian Corven felt something he had not felt in years.
Uncertainty.