Elena’s POV

Damien’s question lingered in the air like a blade suspended above my throat.

Who do you think I am to you?

For a moment, I genuinely didn’t understand what he was asking.

It sounded absurd, almost laughable, yet my chest tightened as if something fragile inside me had been squeezed too hard. His gaze wasn’t mocking or teasing. It was sharp, intent, as though he was demanding an answer that could not be evaded, a position that could no longer remain undefined.

As if ...