It started with a feeling—like you were being watched. Then came the whispers, the shadows that moved just a little too fast. You tried to brush it off. Until the first attack.

Damon barely got to you in time. One second, you were alone, the next, a wooden stake was inches from your heart. He tore through the attacker without hesitation, his usual smirk replaced with something darker.

“You want to tell me why a group of hunters suddenly has you on their hit list?” he asked, breathless.

You shook your head. “I don’t know.”

Damon’s expression tightened. He didn’t like mysteries—especially not ones that put you in danger.

“Well,” he said, stepping closer, “looks like you’re stuck with me until we figure it out.”

Because if someone was hunting you, that meant they were hunting him too. And Damon Salvatore wasn’t about to let that slide.