Aria's POV

The morning light filtered through the blinds in thin, mocking strips of gold. After the night we’d spent together, the atmosphere in the house had shifted from a battlefield to a weary truce. We were sitting at the kitchen island, coffee cooling between us, the silence no longer sharp but heavy with the weight of the "what now."

Damon leaned forward, his elbows on the marble counter, his eyes searching mine with a desperation that made him look like a boy lost in the ...