Zara stared at the photo again.
"Damian. Blood on his hands. A body at his feet. The timestamp didn't lie. Neither did the grainy security footage."
Every instinct screamed danger, every scar reminded her to run.
But something inside her, something cold, calculating, and curious held her still.
She wasn't done with him. No she wasn't. Not until she had answers.
---
9:17 A.M. Wolfe penthouse.
She didn't tell anyone where she was going.
No board meetings. No scheduled appearances. Not even Damian.
She walked out the back entrance, sunglasses on, jaw tight, her phone already navigating her toward Queens Industrial Docks.
If he wouldn't give her the truth, she'd tear it from the ground herself.
---
The docks were nearly deserted.
Steel crates stacked like tombstones. Rusted metal groaned in the distance. The smell of oil and sea salt hung heavy in the air.
Zara pulled her trench coat tighter and walked along the warehouse row until she reached the address buried in the image's data.
A corrugated steel building marked Blackstone Freight.
Abandoned. Half the windows shattered. Padlock rusted through.
She pushed the door open.
Inside was shadow and silence.
Until she heard the creak of footsteps.
Zara froze.
"Looking for something?" a voice drawled behind her.
She turned and nearly choked on her own pulse.
Damian.
---
He stood in the doorway, black coat flaring like wings, eyes cold as ash.
"How..." she began.
"I tracked your phone," he said flatly. "When I saw where you were headed, I figured I'd save you from doing something stupid."
Zara swallowed hard. "You mean… like trusting you?"
He walked toward her, slow and deliberate.
"That photo wasn't supposed to surface," he said.
"So it's real?" she asked, voice rising. "You don't even deny it?"
"I don't lie to people who already suspect the worst."
She stared at him, heart in her throat. "Who was it, Damian?"
He stopped in front of her.
"You don't want to know."
"Yes," she said, stepping closer. "I do."
He looked at her like she was a puzzle he couldn't solve. "I thought you were smarter than this."
"You thought I was controllable," she shot back.
They were inches apart again. Always too close. Always ready to detonate.
"You have no idea what I've done," Damian said quietly. "And if you did… you wouldn't be standing here."
"I'm still here," she said, her voice shaking. "So give me the truth."
He stepped past her, walking toward the center of the empty warehouse.
There was something about the space, too clean, too recently scrubbed... like hiding trace's evidence rather.
"It was self-defense," he said finally. "A man tried to blackmail me. Threatened to expose people I protect. People who would've been destroyed."
"And you killed him."
"I ended a threat," Damian said. "I buried a scandal that wasn't mine. And yes, I got blood on my hands."
Zara's stomach turned.
"You expect me to be okay with that?" she whispered.
"No," he said. "I expect you to leave."
But she didn't. why didn't she ? He taught after saying all that she'd run like her life depends on it. but she didn't.
She crossed the room, fists clenched, anger and confusion crashing inside her chest like a storm.
"Why didn't you tell me?" she demanded. "Why let me fall into this if you were hiding this?"
Damian's gaze hardened. "Because the less you knew, the safer you were."
"Bullshit," she hissed.
He grabbed her wrist... not hard, but firm. His fingers warm. His voice low and dangerous.
"I didn't want you involved," he said. "But you keep crawling deeper."
She yanked her hand away.
"Maybe I'm not the damsel you think I am," she snapped. "Maybe I don't need protecting."
"No," he said, voice darkening. "You don't. You just need control. And I'm the one thing you can't manage."
That hit like a slap.
She hated that he was right.
And hated even more that her pulse quickened at the way he said it.
---
Back at the penthouse, the air between them buzzed like a live wire. The ride home was silent, but electric.
She dropped her coat by the door, ignoring the fact that he followed her inside like a shadow.
"I should've walked away," she said, unzipping her boots.
"You didn't," Damian said simply.
"why didn't I ?" she new but still asked anyway
"Because you want to know what it feels like," he murmured.
Confused, she turned to face him. "What?"
"To give in. To stop fighting."
"I'm not some conquest..."
"You're not anything I've ever wanted," he interrupted. "You're everything I didn't expect."
His hand brushed her jaw.
She didn't move.
"You hate me," he whispered. "So why are you still here?"
"Because I don't believe in fairy tales," Zara said. "But I believe in fire."
And then she kissed him.
---
They didn't make it to the bedroom.
They didn't even make it past the hallway.
Clothes hit the floor like a declaration of war. His mouth was all possession, her nails were all warnings digging into his flesh. She bit his lip; he pinned her to the wall.
Their bodies collided like they were trying to destroy each other.
Every kiss was a question. Every breath an answer.
When it was over, they stayed tangled on the floor, limbs heavy and hearts louder than they could imagine.
---
Later That Night
Zara lay in the dark, sheets twisted around her, watching the city flicker beyond the window.
Damian slept beside her, peacefully.
And yet her thoughts were anything but peaceful.
"That photo hadn't been fake. The blood had been real. The man had died, and Damian had buried it".
For her?
For power?
She didn't know.
But one thing was clear now.
She was in love with a man who might be capable of murder.
And she wasn't sure what terrified her more.
That he might break her heart? Or that she might let him?