The suspect sat across from Damian in the interrogation room, wrists cuffed to the table. The fluorescent light above hummed faintly, casting harsh shadows across the man’s face. He was lean, sharp-featured, and his smile was wrong—smug, stretched too wide, as if being in custody was a game to him.

Before they’d brought him in, Selene had pulled Damian aside in the hall, her voice quiet but steady: “That’s my ex. He’s violent. Be careful with him. He knows how to get under people’s skin.”

Damian had only nodded. He’d thought himself ready. He wasn’t.

Now, the man leaned back in the chair, chains rattling. “Funny, seeing Selene’s new watchdog. She used to like me for the same reasons, you know? The danger, the thrill. She likes pretending she’s better than the people she sleeps with, but trust me—” He smirked. “She’s not.”

Damian’s jaw tightened. He didn’t move, didn’t blink, but his pulse ticked louder in his ears.

“You think she’s so innocent? Nah. She begged me to show her things, dark things. She’s got this little—”

The words blurred into static. Damian’s chair screeched across the tiles as he stood. His hands slammed the table, rattling the cuffs. The suspect’s grin widened, hungry for the reaction.

“Careful, officer,” the man sneered. “Wouldn’t want her finding out you’ve got a temper.”

That was it. Damian’s control snapped like a wire pulled too tight. He lunged across the table, fists colliding with the man’s jaw. The chair toppled, metal shrieking as both hit the ground. Damian’s knuckles cracked against bone again and again, the suspect laughing between gasps of pain.

The door burst open. Two uniformed officers rushed in, grappling Damian back, prying his fists away. His chest heaved, sweat sliding down his temples, rage boiling too loud for reason.

“Captain, that’s enough!” one shouted, dragging him upright.

The suspect spit blood onto the floor, still smirking. “Told you he’d lose it.”

Damian’s vision tunneled as they pulled him out, his own fury thrumming through his veins like poison.

They shoved him into his office, the door clicking shut. He braced against the desk, knuckles raw, breathing hard. The storm outside pressed against the windows, rain streaking the glass.

Minutes passed. The rage dulled into a pounding headache. Guilt itched at the edges, but it couldn’t quiet the memory of that laugh.

Then the door opened.

Selene stepped inside. She looked calm, as always—slender frame, long brown hair tied back, her beige blouse soft against the dim light. The simple choker at her throat drew his eye for a heartbeat before he forced himself to look away.

She shut the door gently behind her. For a moment, she didn’t speak, just watched him with those clear, expressive eyes.

“You lost control,” she said softly.

Damian pressed his palms into the desk, grounding himself. “He was baiting me.”

“He always baits. That’s what he does.” She moved closer, posture calm but steady. “You can’t let him win like that. He wants you to break. He knows it gives him power.”