The call came just after midnight.
Ava had been drifting toward sleep when her phone buzzed on the nightstand. No name, just an unknown number. Against her better judgment, she answered.
"Don't go home tomorrow," a man's voice said — calm, deliberate.
Her breath caught. "Who is this?"
But the line had already gone dead.
The next day, she told herself it was a prank. Still, when work ended, she found herself hesitating at the corner that led to her apartment. That was when she saw Damien. He was leaning against the hood of a black car, his eyes following her as if he had been waiting.
"You got the call," he said. It wasn't a question.
Ava frowned. "You knew?"
"I told you," he said, pushing off the car, "someone's taken an interest in you. And they don't call unless they're close."
Her pulse quickened. "Who are they?"
He hesitated, his jaw tightening. "People who deal in secrets. People who don't forgive." He stepped closer, his voice dropping. "If you stay near me, I can keep you safe. But you'll have to trust me completely."
She wanted to argue, to demand more answers, but there was something in his gaze — steady, unblinking — that made her realize she already believed him more than she should.
As they walked away together, Ava's thoughts churned. She had always believed danger was something to be avoided. But now it was here, standing right beside her, and part of her wasn't afraid. Part of her was drawn to it. Drawn to him.
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