Damien's POV

The pain pulsed down my arm like a dull drumbeat—steady, stubborn, refusing to let me forget I’d been reckless. I leaned back on the old wooden chair in the tiny abandoned cottage Louis had dragged us into, watching her pace across the room. She moved with the tense alertness of a wolf who trusted no walls, no roofs, no silence.

“Don’t bleed on the floor,” she muttered without looking at me as she checked the windows.

I smirked. “Why? Planning to lick it up ...