Callum's POV
Damian's presence pissed me off.
I don't trust him.
I don't even know why he's here.
He sat in the backseat, calm—too calm for someone who once shredded Elena's world and was now suddenly playing hero. His arms were folded. Eyes fixed ahead like he belonged here.
He didn't.
Julian was driving. Focused. Rigid. Sebastian sat beside him, silent but alert, tracking the GPS connected to the agent's feed.
I was beside Damian.
Close enough to smell the cologne he always wore like a mask.
We were headed toward the fuel station—the last place the van pinged before it vanished. It was at least a forty-minute drive, and the tension in the car was suffocating.
Julian spoke first.
His voice cut through like a blade. "You seem unusually concerned, Damian."
Damian didn't look away from the road. "I should be."
Julian glanced at him through the mirror. "No, I mean—it seems you've gotten pretty close with Elena lately. For you to be this worried."
There was a pause.
