(Lena’s POV)

The elevator chime echoed again, louder this time, followed by the smooth slide of metal doors.

I stood motionless, my pulse hammering in my throat. Marisol’s hands hovered over the keyboard, frozen mid-motion.

Footsteps. Slow, deliberate.

Then Damian appeared in the doorway.

The low light from the monitors cut across his face, outlining the sharp planes of his jaw and the cold precision in his eyes. His tie was loosened, his sleeves rolled back, and for once, he didn’t ...