Isabelle’s POV

The night was quiet, save for the faint hum of the city beyond my windows.

I had just settled onto the couch, a glass of wine in hand, when the knock came.

No. Not a knock. A pound.

Sharp. Unrelenting.

I knew who it was before I even stood.

Damion.

I took a slow breath, forcing myself to stay calm. But my hands trembled slightly as I set my glass down and walked toward the door.

I should have ignored it. I should have let him stew in whatever storm was raging inside ...