A safe house within a safe house

The penthouse felt different now.

Even though it hadn't changed — the gleaming glass walls, the soft hum of distant traffic, the scent of leather and expensive cologne hanging in the air — the undercurrent of safety it once held was gone.

Replaced by a constant, creeping sense of danger.

I couldn't shake the image of that photograph.

The precise angle. The way it caught me mid-laugh, completely unaware someone was watching. Stalking and planning. It made the hair on my skin stand.

Damian had doubled security within the hour. Every entrance sealed, new guards posted on every floor. Even Charlotte's usually sarcastic demeanor was tight with unease.

Still, none of it made me feel safer.

"You okay?" Charlotte asked, appearing beside me in the hall.

I forced a weak smile. "I've been better."

She squeezed my shoulder. "We're going to get through this. Vaughn's dead. The rest of them are cockroaches. Easy to crush once the light hits."

But I wasn't sure if that was true. Because whoever sent that photo wasn't hiding. They wanted me to see it. To feel cornered and it was working.

A distant broken voice came through Charlotte's earpiece, and her face darkened.

"What is it?" I asked.

She pressed a hand to her earpiece, listening. Then she cursed under her breath. "We've got movement on the perimeter. Multiple heat signatures. Could be nothing… but it feels like a setup."

My stomach dropped.

"Damian," she called into the room. "You need to get Ava somewhere secure. Now."

Before I could react, Damian was there. He didn't waste time with reassurance. Just grabbed my hand and pulled me down the hall, his grip tight, the tension in his body like coiled wire.

"Where are we going?" I demanded, breath catching as I struggled to keep up.

"Safe room."

"I thought this place was already safe."

He shot me a look. "Not for what's coming."

That didn't help my hopes any.

He led me through a hidden door at the end of a hallway, one I hadn't noticed before. It slid open with a metallic hiss, revealing a narrow staircase that spiraled down into the shadows.

I hesitated. "You're sure about this?"

He didn't answer. Just tugged me forward, and the door sealed shut behind us.

The stairwell was cold, dimly lit by small recessed lights, the air thick with the scent of concrete and metal. I could hear the faint hum of machinery somewhere below.

At the bottom was a heavy steel door with a biometric scanner.

Damian pressed his palm to it. The door unlocked with a hiss, revealing a small room — sleek, minimalist, stocked with monitors and weapons. A safe house within a safe house.

The walls were reinforced steel. No windows. One way in, one way out and Impossibly quiet.

He guided me inside, then shut the door, locking us both in.

I turned to him. "This feels a little extreme, don't you think?"

"They got a photo of you through your window, Ava weeks ago. Which means they've been watching, waiting. This isn't paranoia, It's survival."

I opened my mouth to argue but closed it again.

Because deep down, I knew he was right.

I crossed to the monitors, watching the split screens display views from every angle of the penthouse, the streets below, the building's perimeter. Men in dark clothing moved just outside the range of the streetlights.

"See them?" Damian asked quietly, coming to stand beside me.

I nodded, throat dry.

He checked his weapon, loading a fresh magazine. "Charlotte's handling extraction. But if they breach the building before then, it'll be us against them."

I swallowed hard. "You've done this before."

"Too many times."

The room fell silent.

It was a tight space, and I was suddenly hyper-aware of every inch between us of lack of it.

His chest came up and fell steadily, the cut along his jaw dark against his skin. A bruise blooming at his temple. Even like this — bloodied, exhausted — he looked steady, unshakable.

I hated how it made me feel.

"How do you do it?" I asked softly. "How do you live like this, always looking over your shoulder?"

He exhaled, leaning against the wall. "You stop waiting for the world to be fair. You stop thinking people will do the right thing. You accept that the only person you can really rely on is yourself."

A beat of silence.

"And maybe… if you're lucky… one other person."

I looked up at him.

Our eyes met.

And for a moment, the air gave way.

The danger outside, the monitors, the blood on his skin — it all blurred. All I could see was the sharp edges of his face, the storm behind his gaze. And how utterly, recklessly drawn I was to him.

"Was there anyone for you?" I asked, not sure why the question slipped out.

His expression darkened. "There was someone once. A long time ago. Didn't end well."

I swallowed. "I'm sorry."

He gave a humorless laugh. "Don't be. It taught me what loyalty costs."

The weight of those words hung between us.

Then, as if the tension wasn't already unbearable, the lights went dim.

The monitors scrambled for a moment.

A sharp burst of static over the comm.

Damian straightened, his whole body tensing. He moved toward the wall, weapon raised.

"Stay behind me."

I reached for the small sidearm on the shelf — not because I knew how to use it well, but because it felt better than nothing.

"Are they inside?" I whispered.

He didn't answer.

Which said enough.

A long, suffocating minute passed.

Then Charlotte's voice crackled through the comm. "We're clear. For now. They pulled back."

I let out a shaky breath I hadn't realized I was holding.

Damian lowered his weapon slightly but didn't relax. Not fully.

"We'll stay here until sunrise," he said. "They won't risk another move in daylight."

I slid down the wall, the adrenaline crash hitting hard.

He crossed the room and crouched beside me.

"You're handling this better than most would."

I gave a brittle laugh. "You're assuming I'm not falling apart on the inside."

He reached out, hesitated, then brushed his thumb gently against my cheek.

Not a kiss….Not yet.

But it might as well have been.

"I wouldn't blame you," he murmured.

I met his gaze, heart slamming against my ribs.

And then the moment shattered with a sharp knock against the secure door.

"It's me," Charlotte's voice called. "Stand down."

Damian exhaled, rising to unlock it.

The door slid open, and Charlotte stepped in, her face tired, sweat dampening her brow.

"Cops are on the perimeter. Either bought or clueless. But we've got a window. We move now, or we're boxed in."

Damian nodded. "We move."

He glanced down at me.

"You stick to me like a shadow, understand?"

I didn't hesitate.

"Always."

And as we stepped out into the danger together, I realized something terrifying.

It wasn't just fear anchoring me to his side anymore.

It was something worse.

Something deeper.

And it was going to ruin us both.