Elena’s POV

The world had narrowed to two faces and the sound of my own blood in my ears.

Damien’s voice still hung in the air.

*Elena?*soft, broken, far too familiar. Isabella’s eyes had already calculated the distance between my hand and Mr. Nik’s. Every old wound I had carefully packed away threatened to tear open at once.

Then pressure tightened around my fingers.

Mr. Nik’s hand.

The firm, steady grip pulled me back from the edge of memory with quiet force. I dragged in a slow breath that scraped the bottom of my lungs and forced my gaze away from the table. Away from the man who had watched...