Damien sat perfectly still, his heart heavy in his chest as he watched Sofia sleep. The healer had already come and gone, assuring him that she was fine—that her body had simply shut down from the intense fear and the shock of the day. But Damien couldn't relax. He watched the steady rise and fall of her chest, waiting for any sign that she was coming back to him.
As he stared at her, the silence of the room forced him to face the truth he had buried for years. He looked at her, and he realized he was a liar. He had told the pack he hated her. He had told Alaric she was just a "fuck slave." But as he had fought his uncle, seeing the blade move toward the thought of her death, he had felt his soul starting to tear apart.
He didn't hate her. He had never stopped loving her. His anger was just a mask for a heart that had been broken by the girl he couldn't live without.
