Damon sat on the black leather chair in a quiet room backstage. The noise of the arena was distant now. The adrenaline was cooling in his veins, but his heart wasn't done racing, not until he spoke to her.
He scrolled past the hundred missed calls, ignored every text, and went straight to the only number he needed right now.
Svetlana.
He pressed call.
It didn't even ring fully once.
"Damon…" Her voice hit him before anything else. Soft. Teary. Shaky.
Damon exhaled slowly, that small smile tugging at his lips. "Hey... hey baby."
There was noise in the background, faint shuffling — Aoife's voice, Ashley asking if it connected, Macey telling someone to lower the TV.
But all Damon cared about was her breathing on the other end.
"You did it," Svetlana said, barely above a whisper. "God... you really did it."
