Damon's POV
The engine hummed beneath my fingers as I drummed against the leather steering wheel, my gaze fixed on the dimly lit café. The scent of rain lingered in the air, mixing with the distant aroma of coffee and something sweeter.
Her.
Even now, I could still feel the ghost of her warmth against my fingertips, the delicate tremor that had coursed through her when I'd held her still. She had been frozen beneath my touch, her soft lips parted, her breath shallow.
Terrified. But not just that.
There had been something else beneath the fear—an innocence, a fragility that made me want to shatter her just to see how she would break.
A muscle ticked in my jaw.
What the fuck is wrong with me?
I should've ended this already. Should've let Adrion clean up the mess, tie up loose ends. That's what I always did. No witnesses. No exceptions.
And yet… I had let her go.
I exhaled sharply, leaning back against the headrest. The logical part of me knew what needed to be done. But logic didn't explain the way her black eyes had met mine, wide and uncertain, or why the sound of her gasping my name in fear still echoed in my mind.
I wanted her gone.
But I also wanted—
My fingers curled into a fist. No.
This wasn't about desire. It couldn't be.
I needed to make sure she stayed silent. That was all.
That was the only reason I was still here, watching the café window, waiting.
And yet, when I finally saw her—standing behind the counter, her dark hair falling in soft waves, her lower lip caught between her teeth as she tied a ribbon around a cupcake box—I felt something coil low in my stomach.
A slow smirk tugged at my lips.
Mia tesoro. My treasure.
She didn't know it yet, but she was already mine.
Alina's POV
The soft chime of the café door sliced through the low murmur of customers, a sharp contrast that sent a shudder racing down my spine.
I flinched.
My hands trembled violently as I struggled to tie the last ribbon on the order. My fingers felt useless—clumsy, weak, foreign. Focus. I needed to focus.
But I couldn't. My mind was a storm of jagged images, looping over and over again.
The alley. The sickening scent of blood thick in the air. The gurgled last breath of the man sprawled on the pavement. The glint of the knife catching the light. And him—the one who saw me. The one who looked right into me, through me, as if he already owned me.
I swallowed against the growing tightness in my throat. My heart pounded painfully against my ribs, each beat a desperate attempt to claw its way out of my chest. I hadn't stopped shaking since that moment, and now the café felt suffocatingly bright, the air too thick to pull in.
The door opened again. A gust of cold wind coiled around me, slithering up my spine like an unwelcome whisper.
The sensation was immediate—an invisible vice tightening around my throat.
Breathe. Just breathe.
My hands refused to obey me. The ribbon slipped through my fingers again, the silky fabric taunting me as it fell to the counter.
"Damn it," I whispered hoarsely.
"Angel?"
The voice was familiar—warm, steady. A lifeline.
Kevin.
I looked up, and the second my eyes met his, something inside me cracked wide open.
Before I could think, I dropped everything and rushed into his arms.
The moment he wrapped me in his embrace, the world tilted back into something that felt almost stable. His warmth, the solid weight of his presence—everything about him grounded me, tethered me to reality.
"Alina." His voice was gentle, firm. "What's wrong?"
I opened my mouth, but the words refused to come.
If I spoke, if I admitted it aloud, I would break.
Kevin pulled back slightly, just enough to cup my face, his brows furrowed in concern. "Talk to me."
The door chimed again.
A cold shiver sliced through me. The air shifted.
I stiffened.
And then… I felt it.
A presence. Dark. Smothering. Inescapable.
Slowly, hesitantly, I turned toward the entrance.
My breath stalled in my throat.
A man stood just inside the doorway. Tall. Broad-shouldered. His features were shadowed by the dim café lights, but his sharp brown eyes were locked onto me. Not just looking—watching. Studying.
The weight of his stare pressed against my skin, like unseen fingers trailing over my throat, squeezing, testing, toying with the idea of taking my air away.
I couldn't move.
He took a slow step forward, deliberate in his movements, almost lazy. But there was nothing casual about it. It was calculated. Measured. The way a predator moves when it knows its prey has nowhere to run.
"This café is open, right?"
His voice was smooth, unbothered. But beneath it, there was something else. Something dark. Amused.
My tongue felt heavy, useless. "Y-yes."
His lips curled slightly, as if my fear was something he found… entertaining.
Kevin stepped in front of me before I could even process what was happening, his body a shield between me and the stranger.
"What can I get you?" Kevin's tone was firm, polite—but laced with quiet warning.
The man didn't even glance at him.
His eyes remained on me.
"Hot coffee," he murmured.
Even when Kevin turned to prepare the drink, I could still feel him watching me. His gaze was relentless, an iron grip on my senses, suffocating and unyielding.
My hands shook as I returned to packing the order, moving slower than before, my fingers sluggish, uncoordinated. Each ribbon I tied felt like it took an eternity. My breaths came short, shallow.
I turned slightly—just enough to steal a glance.
Our eyes met.
My heart slammed into my ribs. Hard.
Something inside me recoiled, screaming in warning, but I couldn't look away. There was something eerily familiar about him—like a nightmare resurfacing from the depths of my mind. A nightmare I couldn't quite place.
I whipped back around, pulse thundering in my ears.
A moment later, Kevin placed the cup on the counter. "Here you go."
The man finally looked at him.
And then I saw it.
The shift.
His amusement vanished, replaced by something cold. Dark.
Hatred.
A quiet, burning hatred flickering behind his eyes, swallowing up any trace of the smirk he once wore.
Kevin didn't seem to notice—at first. But then… he stiffened.
I saw it in the way his muscles locked, the slight narrowing of his eyes. His gaze flickered between me and the man, his jaw clenching, as if sensing something unspoken passing between us.
The man's fingers curled around the cup, his grip a little too tight. Then, as I reached to hand him the bill, his fingers brushed against mine.
Cold.
Not just cold. Freezing. Like ice seeping into my bones.
I gasped softly—barely audible. But he noticed.
And his smirk returned, slow and knowing.
Kevin's hand tensed on the counter. He saw it. He saw the way my entire body went rigid, how my breath hitched in my throat. His brows knitted together, his gaze sharpening with suspicion.
The man leaned in slightly, his breath ghosting over my skin, a whisper of something possessive and dark.
"You look beautiful in this outfit."
Kevin's fingers curled into a fist. His stance shifted—protective, brimming with silent fury.
The words shouldn't have meant anything.
But the way he said them…
They weren't a compliment.
They were a promise.
I couldn't move. Couldn't breathe.
Kevin noticed.
His eyes locked onto mine, reading the terror written all over my face, the tension thrumming between me and this stranger. His entire body coiled tight, as if preparing for something.
The man took his coffee and walked away, but even as the door swung shut behind him, I knew—
This wasn't over.
Because when Kevin and I finally stepped outside, I felt it again.
That same suffocating weight.
Someone was watching me.