“Damon!” Violet gaped.

The old man turned around and saw Damon glaring deadly at him. He seemed to know who Damon was because he quickly let go of Violet’s hand and cowered back.

“Mr. Van Zandt,” he laughed nervously. “I’m—I’m just—”

“Get the hell out of my sight,” Damon cut him off, his tone dropped an octave lower.

“Yes, sir,” the man scurried away as fast as he could. Violet had never seen a grown man ...