The blood on the floor still glistened, even though it had dried. Lila stood stiff, her body wanting to run away, but Damian's unblinking gaze held her in place. She saw a marked change in him when something touched his threatening territory; Damian was no longer simply cold.
It became violent.
Damian jerked his face slightly away from Lila, as if realizing he was standing too close. But the distance was still only a breath's breadth. "Don't touch anything," he ordered.
“I’m not an idiot,” Lila replied, though her voice was shaking.
Damian looked down, examining the body. “A bullet to the head, shot at close range. Professional execution.” He glanced at the writing on the wall. “And this… this was written for me.”
“For us,” Lila corrected. “Because it has the word her in it.”
Damian looked at her with something Lila couldn't quite define—fear? No. Damian wasn't afraid. But there was anger thrown in through his overprotectiveness.
“He wants you,” he said quietly. “And he’s already made the first move.”
Lila hugged herself. “Why? Why does everyone suddenly think I’m important? I’m just… I’m just Lila.”
Damian stood up and approached Lila again, so close that their knees touched. “Nothing is just for me. Including you.”
Lila wanted to pull away, but her back was pressed against the wall. Damian leaned in slightly and pressed his hand against the side of Lila's head, confining her, but not touching her.
The gaze pierced him.
“Remember what I said. You’re my responsibility. And I won’t let anyone take what’s mine.”
Lila snorted, feigning bravery. “Claiming without permission? Classic toxic masculinity.”
The corners of Damian's lips lifted. "This isn't masculinity, Lila."
He touched Lila's chin with two fingers, lightly but making her breath hitch.
“This is my obsession.”
Lila was taken aback by the brutal honesty. She slapped his hand away. “I’m not your toy, Damian Valtieri.”
Damian brought his face closer, his voice dropping to a low growl.
“If you're mine, you're not a toy. You're a priority.”
It was the most terrifying and yet most tempting sentence he had ever heard.
Damian pulled out his phone and made a call. “Clean this place up. There’s no way it’ll smell.” He then called out the address, his low voice sharp and professional. As soon as he hung up, he turned back to Lila.
“Let’s go.”
“I-I…” Lila looked at the corpse once more. “Damian, if that person was looking for Clara and she looks like me… does that mean… Clara is probably dead too?”
Damian took a deep breath. “He won’t die easily. He’s a perfect match for my enemy—equally intelligent and equally insane. I won’t believe he’s dead until I see his body.”
That tone… there's an old wound there. Buried, deep, bitter.
Lila wanted to ask… but didn't dare.
Damian grabbed her wrist, not roughly, but with perfect control to keep Lila close without hurting her. He led her down the stairs to the car.
Before entering, Damian looked around. He saw a man at the end of the street staring at them. The man disappeared around the corner as Damian looked back.
Damian clenched his jaw.
Then he held the sides of Lila's face, forcing her to look straight at him.
“Listen to me carefully,” he said very quietly.
“You're not standing too far from me anymore.”
“I wasn’t planning on running away,” Lila tried to joke to ease the tension. “I knew I wasn’t going to win.”
“It’s not about winning,” Damian muttered. “It’s about living.”
He opened the back door of the car.
Lila came in. Damian sat beside her.
The guard in front drove away.
Inside the car, it was quiet. But not a peaceful silence—a silence that pulsed with a strange energy that made it hard for Lila to breathe.
“Damian…”
He didn't know why he called him.
“Yes?” Damian didn’t look at him, just swirled a small glass of whiskey from the car’s minibar.
“Is Clara… someone important to you?”
The question hung in the air.
Damian stopped moving. He slowly turned his head and looked at Lila. His gray eyes looked like a storm about to break.
“I’m not tied to anyone,” he said quietly but firmly. “I don’t allow myself to be.”
“That's not an answer.”
“That's the only thing you get.”
Lila clenched her fists in her lap.
“Someone out there wants to hurt me… to hurt you,” he ventured. “That means you care about me.”
Damian laughed… but it wasn't a happy laugh.
“Don't misunderstand protection, Lila.”
He leaned closer, his voice like dark embers touching skin.
“It's not because I care. It's because I don't allow anyone to touch what's my business.”
Lila looked into his eyes. “If one day you get tired of ‘taking care of me,’ will you let me die?”
Damian leaned forward. “I never get bored of something that challenges me.”
Lila was almost out of breath.
“That… sounds a lot scarier.”
Damian was silent for a moment, then kissed Lila's cheek quickly, suddenly, breaking her concentration.
“That was my intention.”
Lila rubbed her cheek with an angry look, but her body betrayed her, her heart beating wildly.
The car stopped at another large villa. It was more modern, more luxurious, and more secure. Black-clad guards lined up neatly to guard the entrance.
“Your house?” asked Lila.
“One of them.” Damian went out and waited for Lila's door to be opened from the outside by the guard.
As soon as they stepped inside the villa, the scent of sandalwood greeted them. The interior was minimalist yet luxurious, with white marble floors, warm lighting, and giant windows overlooking the city in the distance.
Damian stepped up to a black steel door. He entered a long code that Lila couldn't remember, even though she forced herself to pay attention.
Inside… not a room.
It was a security room full of monitors, computers, and surveillance systems.
Damian stared at the screens like a king watching over a kingdom.
He pointed to a chair. “Sit.”
"I am not a pet."
“I told you to sit down so you wouldn't faint when you saw this.”
Lila was forced to sit, even though she had an unwilling face.
Damian tapped the keyboard. The screen displayed CCTV footage from the market.
In one dark corner, there was a figure of a man with a sturdy body, pale blonde hair, tattoos running down his neck exactly like the description of the man Clara met.
But the man's face was not clearly visible.
He watched Damian and Lila all the time.
Every step.
Every interaction.
And just before they entered the apartment the man looked at the camera and smiled.
Lila was trembling.
Damian enlarged the image.
“That smile… was directed at me.”
“What does that mean?” asked Lila.
Damian leaned back, staring at the screen without blinking.
“That means he’s been playing this game for a long time,” he said. “And now he’s playing it in front of you.”
Lila held the arm of the chair tightly.
Damian turned towards him again for a moment of silence.
“Starting tonight,” he said, his voice like a military command,
"you sleep in my room."
Lila's eyes widened. “What?!”
“That’s the most secure area in the house. I have special access just for me.” Damian approached, lowering his body until their faces were level. “If I’m away from you, you’re an open target.”
Lila was stunned.
“So I will be by your side,” Damian continued, “because I don't trust anyone with your safety.”
“Still… I...”
“This is not a request.”
He grabbed Lila's chin again, but this time gently. "I will take care of you. No matter what."
Lila's face heated up. "Damian... you're obsessive."
“And you are too precious not to be obsessed with.”
Lila didn't know whether to feel scared… or something far more dangerous than that.
Damian pointed to the door.
“Okay.”
As Lila followed Damian upstairs, she realized something:
He entered the wolf's den...
…and the wolf had decided that she was his.
And out there…
There are other wolves who want it too.
The hunt has just begun.