Damien’s POV

His knuckles are raw from meeting asphalt, and a bruise is blooming along his jaw in deepening violet. Even knocked out cold, his features loosen into something almost boyish—enough to hint at whatever magnetism once pulled Sienna in back in college.

I tell myself I should feel triumphant. My competition is laid out in a hospital bed, helpless, while I get to go home and soothe the woman he lost.

It doesn’t land.

Because ...