Elena’s POV

The laughter in the private room had grown too loud.

The alcohol burned like acid down my throat, but I refused to glance in Damien’s direction. I could feel him there like a quiet, immovable force at the head of the table, watching.

Waiting for me to falter.

The men surrounding me laughed again, their voices booming, filling every space like smoke. The smell of liquor, perfume, and sweat clung to the air. Someone poured another glass before I could protest.

“Come now, ...