Lilith Luna Dusk
I have always hated the feeling of being watched.
It's not paranoia—it's just instinct. A sharpened edge honed by years of knowing that even in silence, the wolves are listening. Calculating. Waiting.
But right now, the weight of unseen eyes is heavier than usual.
I don't react. That would be a mistake. Instead, I cross my legs, exuding the kind of languid ease that comes naturally to me, and sip my coffee. The café is quiet, tucked away in the heart of the city, its floor-to-ceiling windows offering a panoramic view of Blackthorn territory. Outside, life moves on—oblivious to the war that is brewing beneath its surface.
The server hesitates before setting a second cup of coffee down in front of me. I don't look up.
"Someone ordered this for you," she murmurs, her tone careful, uncertain.
My fingers pause on the rim of my own cup. The scent of the new coffee is familiar—dark roast with a hint of honey.
A precise choice.
Slowly, I lift my gaze, scanning the reflections in the glass. The café is nearly empty at this hour, but near the entrance, a man in a sharp suit stands, arms folded, his posture effortlessly dominant.
Tennyson.
Kade's Head Enforcer.
I let out a quiet breath through my nose. Of course.
Lifting the cup, I take a single sip before setting it back down. A response, subtle but intentional. I don't need to look directly at him. He will get the message.
Noted. Now leave.
A few seconds pass before he moves. I catch the reflection of his retreat—calm, unhurried, a shadow slipping back into the city.
I exhale, rolling my shoulders before returning to my drink.
So.
Kade is watching.
Again.
Not unexpected. But after last night's St. Regis Gala, I had hoped he would take longer to make his move. Then again, I should have known better.
I lean back in my chair, tracing a finger along the rim of my cup, replaying the events in my mind.
Kora Laurent.
That conversation had been… illuminating.
She didn't confirm much, but she didn't have to. Her presence alone was enough to tell me that something was shifting. And if Kade had sent his enforcer to follow me, it meant he had caught the scent of it too.
Not ideal.
And then, of course, there was Damon.
My fingers tighten slightly on the ceramic.
I had expected many things from last night. Damon Volkova inserting himself into my business was not one of them.
His presence had been disruptive. Infuriating. Familiar.
The way he looked at me.
Like I was his to fight for.
Like I was his.
A low chuckle escapes me. Foolish of him.
And yet…
I let out a slow breath, setting the cup down and reaching for my phone. There's a single message waiting for me. No name, but the sender doesn't need one.
"Breakfast. Half an hour. You know where."
I sigh, pressing the device to my temple for a beat before slipping it into my pocket.
Damon.
I should ignore him.
I should ignore all of them.
But I won't.
Because despite the game Kade thinks he's playing, despite the invisible battle lines being drawn, despite the irritation simmering beneath my ribs at the audacity of these men
This is my war.
And it will be my victory.
With a quiet hum, I push back my chair, leaving the untouched second cup of coffee behind as I rise to meet whatever comes next.
The car waiting for me outside is sleek, tinted, and familiar. I slide into the backseat without hesitation, the scent of leather and something faintly smokey curling around me.
"Morning, darling."
Damon's voice is a smooth drawl, rich with amusement. He's lounging comfortably, one arm draped over the seat, the top few buttons of his shirt undone as if he just rolled out of bed.
I don't reply right away. Instead, I glance at the driver—a man I don't recognize—and arch a brow. Damon catches the look and smirks.
"Relax. He's mine."
For now.
Still, I lean back, crossing one leg over the other as the car pulls into motion. The silence stretches between us, taut with unspoken things. Damon studies me, his gaze slow and thorough, like he's searching for something beneath my surface.
"So," he finally says, resting his chin on his knuckles. "How did you sleep?"
I give him a bland look. "Why do you care?"
His smirk widens. "Just making conversation."
I hum, turning to the window. "Get to the point, Volkova."
Damon exhales, shaking his head as if disappointed by my lack of patience. But there's a glint in his eyes that says he expected nothing less.
"Kade called me this morning."
That earns my attention. I glance back at him, keeping my expression carefully neutral. "And?"
"And," he drawls, "he told me to stay away from you."
A pause.
Then—laughter. Low, dark, curling from my lips before I can stop it.
Damon watches me with something unreadable in his gaze, but I don't care. The sheer audacity of Kade Blackthorn.
"He really thinks he has that kind of authority?" I murmur, shaking my head in amusement.
"Oh, he thinks a lot of things." Damon stretches, the fabric of his shirt tightening over broad shoulders. "But I have to say—his jealousy is very entertaining."
I scoff. "This isn't jealousy. This is ownership."
Damon's amusement fades, something sharper flickering across his features. "And do you still belong to him?"
I don't answer immediately.
Because the truth is—no, I don't. I never truly did.
But that doesn't mean Kade won't fight to make it true.
I tilt my head, watching Damon carefully. "Why do you care?"
His jaw flexes slightly. "Because, Lilith, whether you like it or not, this concerns me now."
I arch a brow. "Oh?"
Damon leans in slightly, the space between us shrinking, his scent brushing against my senses—embers and something dark, something dangerous.
"Kade doesn't get to dictate what happens to you," he says softly. "Neither of us do."
I search his face, the unexpected words pressing against something deep in my chest. But before I can respond, the car slows.
We've arrived.
Damon straightens, his expression smoothing back into something unreadable. "Shall we?"
I exhale, schooling my own face into cool indifference before stepping out of the car.
The moment I step out of the car, the cold morning air brushes against my skin, sharp and bracing. We're parked in front of an unassuming building—modern but discreet, nestled between high-rises that make it easy to overlook.
A safe house. One of mine.
Damon joins me, his gaze flicking briefly toward the entrance before settling back on me. "I assume you picked this location for a reason."
I don't answer. Instead, I walk ahead, heels clicking softly against the pavement. A single security camera shifts as we approach, scanning for authorization. The door unlocks with a soft beep.
Inside, the space is as I left it—minimalist, functional. Nothing extravagant. A place for business, not comfort.
Damon steps in behind me, surveying the surroundings with a flicker of amusement. "Cold," he muses. "Not what I expected from you."
I arch a brow. "You expected velvet and candlelight?"
He smirks. "Something with a little more personality."
I don't indulge him with a response. Instead, I stride toward the central table, where a small black folder sits untouched.
I reach for it, flipping it open. Inside, neatly printed reports detail Kora Laurent's movements.
Damon notices. "Ah," he says, settling into one of the chairs across from me. "So you're finally paying attention to her."
I glance up. "You warned me about her before. Why?"
His smirk fades, replaced with something more serious. "Because Kora isn't just some loose thread, Lilith. She's a blade aimed at your back."
I tap my fingers against the folder. "And yet, you didn't handle her yourself."
Damon leans back, fingers steepled. "Let's just say… Kora's not so easy to kill."
That earns my full attention.
I close the folder, tilting my head slightly. "You've tried?"
He holds my gaze, and for a moment, something unspoken lingers between us.
Then he says, "No. But I've watched others try."
Interesting.
I don't press. Not yet.
Instead, I push the folder toward him. "Tell me what you know."
Damon exhales slowly, as if weighing his words. Then—
"Kora was never supposed to survive what happened to her."
I frown. "What do you mean?"
He meets my gaze, his voice dropping lower. "I mean she should be dead. And yet, here she is. Alive. And moving pieces you haven't even begun to see."
A cold unease settles in my chest.
I don't like unknown variables.
And Kora Laurent? She just became my biggest one.