The night air hit me like a slap as I slammed Tommy’s front door behind me. My chest was still pounding, my hands shaking from the fight that had just ended in chaos. Every word, every scream, every threat echoed in my head. I knew I couldn’t stay — not tonight, not ever — but leaving completely wasn’t an option. Not yet. Not without risking everything.

I slid into my car, the engine rumbling to life as I gripped the wheel too tightly. My heart was still racing, a dangerous mix of fear and adrenaline. I thought about Damon — waiting, patient, and impossibly calm — and the thought of him made my chest tighten in a different way. He was a world away from Tommy’s chaos, a sanctuary in the middle of this storm. Just the idea of being near him, even for a few stolen hours, made the ride worth it.

The city blurred past me as I drove, streetlights streaking like fire across the windshield. My mind flickered to Damon’s smile, the way his blue eyes would soften when he looked at me, the casual way he made me feel like a queen while the rest of the world seemed to collapse. Tonight, I didn’t need safety, I didn’t need peace — I needed him. I needed something real.

Pulling up to Damon’s London-style townhouse — his apartment away from the cameras, the noise, the chaos — I felt a flicker of relief. The street was quiet, the windows glowing softly. No screaming, no punches, no threats. Just him. Just us. I slipped inside, silently grateful that in this tiny bubble of his, I could be something other than terrified, something other than a prisoner in my own life.

Damon greeted me with that sly grin that always made my knees weak. He didn’t ask questions. He didn’t need to. He just pulled me close, pressed his lips to my hair, and whispered that I was safe — at least for tonight. And for the first time in months, I believed it.