The faint morning light filtered through the cracks in the cabin's shutters, casting long streaks across the wooden floor. Elena stirred on the couch, her body aching from the tension of the previous night. Her dreams had been a mix of gunfire and Damien's stormy grey eyes, leaving her more restless than refreshed.
The smell of coffee wafted through the air, pulling her fully awake. She blinked, her gaze settling on Damien in the kitchen. His back was to her, and despite the bruises visible on his shoulders, his movements were calm and precise as he poured coffee into two mugs.
"You're up," he said without turning around, his deep voice startling her.
Elena sat up, clutching the blanket draped over her. "Barely," she muttered. "Did you even sleep?"
"A couple of hours," Damien replied, walking over and handing her a mug. "You needed it more."
She took the mug, the heat seeping into her hands. "Thanks. For... everything."
Damien sat on the arm of the couch, his eyes scanning her face. "You don't have to thank me. Protecting you is part of the job now."
The reminder of their precarious situation tightened the knot in her stomach. "Right. The job."
For a moment, silence stretched between them, the weight of unspoken words filling the room. Then Damien stood abruptly, setting his mug on the table. "We need to go over the next steps."
Elena frowned. "Next steps? I thought this was the 'safe' safehouse."
"It is, for now," Damien said, pacing the room. "But the longer we stay, the more time they have to track us. We need to make a move before they get the upper hand."
Her heart sank. "So, more running."
"For now," he admitted. "But it won't be forever."
"Forever feels a lot shorter these days," she said bitterly.
Damien stopped and turned to her, his expression softening. "I know this isn't what you signed up for, Elena. But you're stronger than you think. You've made it this far."
His words caught her off guard, and for a moment, the steel wall she'd built around herself cracked. "What if I can't do it, Damien?" she whispered, her voice trembling. "What if I break?"
He crossed the room in a few swift steps, kneeling in front of her. His hands rested on her knees, his touch both grounding and electrifying. "You won't," he said firmly. "Because I won't let you."
Her breath caught as his intense gaze locked onto hers. The space between them seemed to shrink, the air thick with unspoken tension. Her pulse quickened, and she couldn't tear her eyes away from his.
"Damien..." she began, but her voice faltered.
He leaned in slightly, his hand brushing her cheek. "You're safe with me, Elena. Always."
The heat of his touch sent a shiver down her spine, and before she could think better of it, she closed the distance between them. Their lips met, tentative at first, then deepening as the fire between them ignited.
Damien's hands slid up her arms, pulling her closer, and Elena melted into him, the weight of their situation momentarily forgotten. His kiss was demanding, consuming, and she found herself craving more.
She broke away just long enough to whisper, "This doesn't fix anything."
"I know," Damien murmured, his lips brushing against hers. "But right now, it's all that matters."
He lifted her effortlessly, carrying her to the couch as their kisses grew more urgent. The barriers between them shattered, leaving nothing but raw need in their wake. Every touch, every whispered word was a promise—a reminder that even in the chaos, they had found something worth holding onto.
Hours later, as the sun climbed higher in the sky, Elena lay tangled in the blanket, her head resting against Damien's chest. His arm was wrapped around her, his fingers tracing lazy circles on her shoulder.
"We're going to get through this," he said softly, his voice more vulnerable than she'd ever heard it.
She looked up at him, her fingers brushing against his jaw. "Together?"
"Together," Damien promised, pressing a kiss to her forehead.
But as they lay there, the faint buzz of Damien's phone shattered the fragile peace. He reached for it, his expression darkening as he read the message.
"What is it?" Elena asked, sitting up.
"They've taken your mother," Damien said, his voice tight. "And they're demanding you in exchange."