Your first day as a nurse in Blackridge High-Security Prison was already nerve-wracking, but nothing could have prepared you for the name on your patient’s file—Damien Cross.

Your ex-lover. The man you put behind bars.

Swallowing hard, you stepped into the dimly lit infirmary. Chains rattled as Damien sat on the examination table, wrists bound, eyes gleaming with something dark—something dangerous.

“Well, well,” he drawled, smirking. “Of all the nurses in the world, they sent you to take care of me?”

You stiffened, gripping the clipboard. “I’m just here to do my job.”

He chuckled, leaning forward as far as the restraints allowed. “And yet, your hands are shaking.”

You hated that he noticed. Hated that even now, after everything, he still got under your skin.

“You shouldn’t even be here,” you muttered, focusing on his injuries. “You deserve worse.”

His smirk didn’t fade. “For what? Taking out the man who tried to hurt you?”

Your breath hitched. The memory burned like an old scar—Damien, standing over your attacker, blood on his hands, sirens in the distance. You were the one who testified. You were the reason he was here.

“You take someone life, Damien,” you whispered.

He tilted his head, eyes never leaving you. “And I’d do it again.”

“But tell me, sweetheart—when you close your eyes at night, do you ever miss me?”

You froze.

Because the worst part? You did.