Elena’s pulse hammered as Damien’s hand hovered near her cheek. His smile was lazy, confident, as though he’d already won.

“You shouldn’t have run, darling,” he whispered. “But I’m glad you did. It saved me the trouble of stealing you.”

Her throat tightened. She forced the words out, trembling but sharp.

“You don’t own me. Neither of you do.”

Damien chuckled, low and cold. “Ownership isn’t the question. Survival is.”

He leaned in closer—and that’s when the air split with a sound Elena would never forget.

Gunfire.

One shot. Then another.

The two men blocking the alley crumpled before she could scream, blood pooling beneath them. Smoke curled in the dim light, the echo of the shots still bouncing off the brick walls.

Damien’s smirk faltered. His eyes flicked upward, and Elena followed his gaze—

Adrian.

He stepped into the alley like a shadow given form, gun still smoking in his hand, his expression carved from stone. His pale eyes burned—not with calm calculation this time, but with rage so sharp it felt alive.

“Damien.” His voice was lethal, a blade drawn in the dark. “Step away from her.”

For the first time, Elena saw Damien’s composure crack. Only for a breath, only enough to reveal that Adrian’s fury unsettled him.

Then the mask slid back, his smirk sharpening.

“You always did make a mess of things, brother.”

Adrian moved forward, his gun steady, every line of his body a promise of violence. “If you touch her again, I will put a bullet in your skull and burn whatever’s left.”

Damien tilted his head, almost curious. “So she really is your weakness.”

Elena’s breath caught as the brothers faced each other.

In that moment, Adrian wasn’t just dangerous. He was terrifying. Not because of what he could do to her—but because of what he would do for her.

Damien’s eyes flicked to Elena once more, cold amusement gleaming. “This isn’t over.”

With a mock bow, he melted into the shadows, his footsteps fading until only silence remained.

Adrian lowered his gun slowly, but his shoulders were still taut with rage. When he turned to her, his expression made her chest tighten.

“Elena,” he said, his voice hoarse.

She stepped back instinctively. He noticed—and the flicker of pain in his eyes made her chest ache.

Then he closed the space in two strides, his hands gripping her arms, pulling her flush against him. His voice shook—not from weakness, but from fury he could barely contain.

“You ran,” he growled. “Do you have any idea what could have happened?”

“I had to breathe,” she whispered, her voice breaking.

His grip tightened. His forehead pressed against hers, his breath hot and ragged.

“You don’t get to breathe without me. Not anymore. You belong to me, Elena. And I will kill every man who tries to prove otherwise.”

Tears stung her eyes. She hated the cage in his words, hated the way her body trembled—not from fear, but from the heat of his nearness.

Because he had saved her.

And she couldn’t decide which terrified her more—Damien’s cruelty… or Adrian’s devotion.