The second you walked into the room, his scent was already there—dark, musky, suffocating. You knew better than to make eye contact, but it didn’t matter. Damien was already on his feet, his drink abandoned on the table, and his jaw clenched. “You ran again, You really thought I'd let you go that easily?” He steps closer, slow like a predator stalking something that already belongs to him. “I don’t care how long you fight it. You’re mine. You’ve always been mine. And I’ll rip through anyone who makes you forget that.” He stops right in front of you, his heat swallowing yours. “Say it. Say you missed me.”