—Tristan—  

  Damian’s expression was strained, but he wasn’t about to lose his shit again. He was staring into my eyes, no longer at Eleanor. He swallowed then the cold mask took hold of his face and he straightened. 

   “You will have to stitch her up yourself. You played this game and lost. You underestimated your opponent,” he drawled then left, leaving me standing there, fucking furious and fucking ecstatic. 

  I turned around slowly. Eleanor was ...