Dane's POV
The night is quiet, except for the echo of my footsteps against the snow-covered street. My eyes are still wet, my cheeks red from the wind. I try to steady my breath, but my heart feels heavy — dragging all the memories I swore I'd buried.
Then I sense it.
Someone is following me.
When I turn, I see him — Daniel Hale. His tall figure moves through the pale glow of the streetlights, calm and steady, like the cold itself.
I quicken my pace. I don't want to see him. Not now. Not ever.
"Damien, stop."
His voice breaks through the silence — low and steady, laced with emotion.
I ignore him.
"Damien," he calls again, softer this time. "I always wanted to know you — how you smile, how you talk, what you love. You were always so quiet, so distant. I wanted to be close to you, to protect you, but I was too weak back then. I always wanted to be by your side."
