The room fell silent the second he stepped in.

I froze, one wrist still locked in the cold cuff, the other gripping the metal desperately as if I could will it to open. My hair fell in soft waves down my back, slightly messy from the tug of panic moments ago, and I knew I looked like a deer caught in headlights.

And there he was.

Damon.

Tall, composed, and effortlessly magnetic in a dark, fitted shirt with the sleeves rolled up just enough to show the veins along his forearms. He leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, a single brow raised as his gaze traveled from the cuff to...