Damian's POV

Racheal's suitcase looked too small to hold all the fear she was carrying.

She stood at the edge of my living room that evening, fingers knotted in front of her, eyes darting around like she expected Lucas to burst out from behind one of the couches with another bomb.

"Are you sure I'm not imposing?" she asked softly.

"You're not," I said, dropping my keys into the bowl by the door. "You're safe here. That's all that matters."

She exhaled shakily, the tension in her shoulders ...