Amara's POV
Amara awoke to the soft glow of morning light filtering through her curtains, her head heavy with exhaustion. The events from the night before sat heavily in her chest—Damien's intensity, their confrontation, and the uneasy truce they had reached.
She sighed, dragging herself out of bed. The house was eerily quiet, the kind of silence that always made her feel like she was being watched. She knew Damien was still around, somewhere in the shadows, lurking as always.
After getting dressed, she wandered downstairs, hoping for a moment of peace. But as she stepped into the kitchen, there he was—Damien, seated at the counter with a cup of coffee in his hand, his sharp eyes already locked onto her.
"You slept late," he observed, his tone calm but unsettlingly measured.
Amara forced a smile. "I needed it after… everything."
He nodded, though she could see the tension in his jaw. It was as if he was holding something back, a part of him constantly on edge.
"I was thinking," she said carefully, "maybe I could hang out with Sophie again later today."
Damien's expression darkened immediately, his hand tightening around his coffee cup. "No."
Her heart sank. "We talked about this. You said—"
"I said I'd try," he interrupted, his voice sharp. "But that doesn't mean I'll let you run around with people I don't trust."
Amara clenched her fists, frustration bubbling inside her. "Sophie isn't dangerous, Damien. She's just a friend."
"That's not the point." He stood, towering over her, his presence overwhelming. "The world is dangerous. You can't see it, but I do. And I won't risk anything happening to you."
---
Damien's POV
Damien knew he was pushing her too hard, but he couldn't help himself. The idea of her out there, beyond his control, gnawed at him like a parasite.
He saw the way Amara's shoulders slumped, the hope dimming from her eyes. It hurt to see, but he couldn't afford to be lenient—not when the stakes were this high.
"Damien, I can't live like this forever," she whispered, her voice cracking under the weight of her emotions.
He felt something stir inside him—guilt, maybe, or regret—but it was quickly drowned out by the familiar tide of obsession.
"You don't have to live like this forever," he murmured, stepping closer. "But for now, you need to trust me. I'll do whatever it takes to protect you."
Her lips parted as if she wanted to argue, but the words didn't come. Instead, she just stood there, looking small and fragile in a way that made his heart ache.
Damien reached out, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "You're everything to me, Amara. I need you to understand that."
Her breath hitched, and for a moment, something flickered in her eyes—fear, confusion, maybe even pity. But it wasn't the connection he wanted. It wasn't love.
And it wasn't enough.
---
Amara's POV
Amara's heart raced as Damien's hand lingered near her face, his touch both gentle and suffocating. She wanted to pull away, to break free from the intensity of his gaze, but something about the moment rooted her in place.
"I don't know if I can do this," she admitted, her voice barely audible.
Damien's expression shifted—softening, but only slightly. "You can. You will."
His certainty terrified her more than anything. It was as if he believed that, given enough time, she would come to accept his control as love.
But she wouldn't. She couldn't.
"I need some air," she muttered, stepping back. "I'll be in the garden."
She didn't wait for his response, slipping out of the kitchen before he could say anything more.
The cool morning breeze hit her skin as she stepped outside, filling her lungs with fresh air. The garden was her only refuge, the one place where she felt somewhat free from Damien's suffocating presence.
Amara sat on a stone bench, wrapping her arms around herself. The weight of everything pressed down on her, and she fought the urge to cry. How could she live like this, constantly looking over her shoulder, wondering if Damien's obsession would ever end?
---
Damien's POV
From the kitchen window, Damien watched as Amara sat alone in the garden, her arms wrapped protectively around herself. She looked so small, so vulnerable.
It tore at him—this need to keep her safe, to wrap her in his arms and shield her from the world. But no matter what he did, she kept slipping further away from him.
He hated that distance, hated the way she kept retreating into herself. But most of all, he hated that he couldn't make her see how much he loved her.
Damien's phone buzzed on the counter, pulling him from his thoughts. It was a message from Liam: "We've got a problem. Call me."
His jaw tightened as he typed a quick response: "Handle it."
Whatever was happening could wait. Nothing was more important than Amara.
---
Amara's POV
Amara sat in the garden for what felt like hours, lost in her thoughts. The sky was beginning to shift, the morning light softening into a hazy gray.
She knew Damien wouldn't let her stay out here much longer. He would come looking for her, like he always did.
And she wasn't sure if she had the strength to keep fighting him.
As if on cue, the sound of footsteps on the stone path made her heart skip a beat. She looked up to see Damien standing at the edge of the garden, his expression unreadable.
"Come inside," he said softly, but it wasn't a request.
Amara felt the familiar weight settle over her chest, suffocating and inescapable. She stood slowly, her movements heavy with resignation.
Maybe, just maybe, if she stopped fighting, Damien would loosen his grip on her.
Or maybe he wouldn't.
---
Damien's POV
Damien watched as Amara rose from the bench, her eyes downcast and her shoulders slumped. A flicker of satisfaction stirred within him—she was finally starting to understand.
He stepped closer, reaching for her hand. "Let's go inside."
She hesitated for a moment, but then her fingers slipped into his, cold and hesitant. It wasn't the connection he wanted, but it was a start.
As they walked back toward the house, Damien couldn't help but smile.
She was his. And no matter how far she tried to run, she would always be his.