"Power doesn't make you untouchable. It only makes you the target everyone aims for."
Damon
The hum of the jet engines was a low, familiar lullaby. Damon Voss sat in his private cabin, eyes fixed on the storm clouds that folded over Zurich's skyline like grey silk. His reflection in the window looked sharper in the cold light—immaculate suit, expression cut from stone, the kind of face that made people lower their eyes before they spoke.
The flight attendant announced their descent. He barely nodded. His phone buzzed—Alex.
"Finally decided to crawl out of your LA penthouse," Alex's voice drawled through the speaker. The static hum of mischief was always there with him.
"Some of us have work to do," Damon said evenly, glancing at the time. "Voss communication's European branch is still in shambles."
"Work, or avoiding a certain redhead?" Alex teased. "You've been quieter than usual since she started working for you. Don't tell me she's gotten under your skin."
Damon leaned back, one hand flexing against his temple. Elara Quin. Even her name had a rhythm that refused to fade. "She's… interesting," he admitted finally, the word tasting foreign on his tongue.
"Interesting?" Alex laughed. "That's your code for trouble."
"She's unpredictable," Damon continued, ignoring the comment. "Smart. Knows how to bite without showing her teeth."
"So, she's like you," Alex said. "No wonder you're obsessed."
Damon's jaw tightened. "I'm not obsessed. I'm curious."
"Right. And I'm a priest."
The jet touched down smoothly on Zurich tarmac, the wheels humming against the concrete. Damon ended the call without warning, muting Alex's laugh before it could follow him into reality. He stood, buttoning his coat, and the moment his feet hit the ground, his security detail closed in—a wall of black suits and silence.
Zurich was cold, sterile, elegant—like the inside of his own mind. His convoy glided through the streets, tinted windows reflecting skyscrapers and snow-capped peaks. Inside, Damon's thoughts were less pristine.
Elara Quin had been a puzzle he didn't expect to linger over. Employees came and went. Few had dared to talk back. Fewer had made him feel.
Yet something about her—the quiet defiance in her eyes, the way she never flinched under his stare—unsettled him. It wasn't attraction, at least not entirely. It was… familiarity. The kind of stillness that hid storms.
His driver pulled up to the mansion overlooking Lake Zurich—sleek architecture, glass walls, marble floors, a home too large for one man. Damon stepped out, the chill biting against his skin. He preferred this cold. It reminded him he was still alive.
Inside, the fireplace burned gold. He shrugged off his coat and walked to his office—floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city. On his desk, files lay stacked in perfect order, waiting. But instead of reaching for them, he poured himself a drink. Scotch. Neat.
The first sip was sharp enough to sting.
He hated that he was thinking of her again.
Her quiet comebacks when he teases her.
Her calm nerve when she'd defied him in his own office.
The way she didn't shrink under pressure—how she almost seemed to thrive in it.
Most people wanted something from Damon Voss.
Elara wanted nothing.
That made her dangerous.
His phone buzzed again—another call from Alex. He considered ignoring it, then sighed and answered.
"You're thinking about her again," Alex said without preamble.
"Do you ever tire of hearing your own voice?" Damon muttered.
Alex chuckled. "You're predictable, Voss. I know that tone. You only sound like that when you're losing control."
"I never lose control."
"Sure. Tell that to the way you've been staying in LA longer than planned. Everyone's talking. Even Jenna asked if you've gone soft."
Damon's lips curved faintly. "Jenna talks too much."
"She misses you."
"She always does."
There was a pause on the line—Alex's silence, for once, was loaded. "You invited her to Zurich?"
"I did."
"Wow. That's new. Damon Voss voluntarily surrounding himself with emotional chaos? I need to mark this day on my calendar."
Damon ignored the jab, swirling the amber liquid in his glass. "Jenna knows how to keep appearances. The shareholders like her. It's good publicity."
"And convenient, right?" Alex's voice softened, dropping the playful edge. "You know she wants more."
"I've made it clear I don't."
"Then why keep her close?"
Damon looked out the window at the icy lake, his reflection fractured by the glass. "Because sometimes, Alex… keeping people close makes it easier to control the damage they could cause."
Silence hummed between them.
Then Alex laughed quietly. "You sound like a man preparing for war."
"Maybe I am," Damon said.
He ended the call and set his phone aside. For a long moment, he stood there, watching the snow fall softly against the city lights.
Zurich looked peaceful from above, but he knew better. Every deal, every empire, every smile was a mask over a battlefield.
His gaze shifted to the sleek tablet on his desk, the encrypted database open to Project Serpent. The word pulsed on the screen like a living thing. He'd found traces of it buried in old Voss Technologies files—something his father had hidden, something connected to 2010.
And recently, he'd seen Elara Quin's search history overlap with the same archived projects.
Coincidence?
No. Damon didn't believe in coincidences.
He leaned back in his chair, tapping the table lightly. His father's shadow stretched far, and whatever Elara was looking for—it was tangled in it. He needed to find out why.
The fireplace crackled behind him, throwing shadows over his face. His expression softened for the first time that night, unreadable. Then, just as quickly, it hardened again.
Tomorrow, Jenna would arrive. He'd play the part—cold, distant, immaculate. But tonight, Damon Voss allowed himself one dangerous indulgence—thinking of a woman who didn't fear him.
A woman who, for the first time in years, made him wonder what it would be like to lose.
In Zurich's silence, Damon Voss didn't realize he wasn't studying Elara Quin anymore—he was becoming the one being studied.