Elena woke up with a sharp gasp.
The room wasn't hers.
Cold sheets. Tall ceilings. The smell of antiseptic and leather.
Her head throbbed—and then it all rushed back.
Alex's eyes.
His hand on her neck.
The gun.
The shot.
Her heart slammed against her chest as she pushed herself up.
The door opened.
Damian.
"You're awake," he said calmly, walking toward her.
She immediately moved back.
He stopped.
That was when he saw it—the fear in her eyes. Not shock but fear.
"Elena…" he called softly.
"You killed someone," she said, her voice shaking but angry. "You shot Alex."
His jaw tightened.
"He was hurting you."
"You didn't have to kill him Damian!" she snapped. "He was there for me when you disappeared."
Damian took a step closer. "God forbid I had arrived a second later—"
"Don't come close," she warned, backing away again.
He froze.
"Elena," he said slowly, "I will never harm you. You know that."
She swallowed hard. "I know your with a gun."
There was a pause.
