Nathaniel Voss wasn't a man who made idle threats.
Sienna learned that the hard way the moment she stepped out of her apartment the next morning.
Her car—trashed. Windows shattered. The tires slashed. A single white envelope left on the hood.
She swallowed hard before opening it.
Inside was a single sheet of paper. Four words, written in bold, precise handwriting:
"Stop digging. Walk away."
A chill ran down her spine.
This wasn't a warning. It was a promise.
Her hands clenched around the paper as she pulled out her phone and called Damian.
He picked up on the first ring. "Sienna?"
His voice was sharp. Alert. He already knew something was wrong.
"We need to talk," she said, voice steady despite the storm raging inside her.
"Where are you?"
"Outside my apartment."
"I'm coming to get you."
The line went dead.
Sienna took a slow breath, willing her heart to slow. She wasn't afraid. She wouldn't let herself be.
But as she stood there, the weight of the message pressing down on her, she knew one thing for certain—Voss was done playing games.
Nowhere to Run
Fifteen minutes later, Damian pulled up in a sleek black car.
Sienna slid into the passenger seat without a word.
Damian didn't ask questions. He didn't have to. His gaze flicked to the crumpled note in her hand, then to the wreckage of her car.
His jaw tightened.
"Voss," he said flatly.
Sienna exhaled. "He wants me to stop."
Damian's hands gripped the steering wheel. "That's not how he works. If he wanted you to stop, he wouldn't have sent a warning. He would've made sure you couldn't keep going."
A shiver ran through her.
"Then why do this?" she asked.
His expression darkened. "Because he's testing you. He wants to see how far you'll push before he really pushes back."
Sienna swallowed hard.
She had always known this story was dangerous. But now, for the first time, it felt personal.
Damian turned toward her, his gaze burning into hers. "You're staying with me."
She blinked. "What?"
"You're not safe at your apartment. You're coming to my penthouse."
Sienna bristled. "I can take care of myself."
"This isn't up for debate."
Their gazes locked, tension thick in the air.
Finally, Sienna exhaled. "Fine. But don't think for a second I'm backing down."
A shadow of something flickered across Damian's face—something almost like admiration.
"Good," he murmured. "Because neither am I."
Close Quarters
Sienna had been in Damian's penthouse before, but this time, it felt different.
More intimate. More dangerous.
As she set her bag down, Damian poured himself a drink, watching her over the rim of his glass.
"You should rest," he said.
Sienna crossed her arms. "I'm not tired."
Damian arched a brow. "Liar."
She huffed, turning away—but before she could take a step, Damian was behind her.
Close. Too close.
His warmth pressed against her back, his voice a low murmur near her ear.
"You're shaking."
Sienna clenched her fists. "I'm fine."
Damian's fingers brushed against her wrist. "You're not."
Her breath caught. Damn him. Damn the way he saw straight through her.
She turned to face him, and suddenly, there was nowhere to run.
Their eyes locked.
Heat. Tension. The pull that neither of them wanted to name.
Damian's fingers traced a slow line up her arm, his touch both gentle and demanding.
"You're in my world now, Sienna," he murmured. "And I don't lose what's mine."
Her heart pounded.
"I'm not yours," she whispered.
A ghost of a smile played on his lips. "Not yet."
And then—he kissed her.
A slow, devastating kiss that stole the breath from her lungs.
Sienna should have pushed him away. She should have reminded herself that this was a mistake.
But when Damian's hands slid to her waist, pulling her flush against him—she didn't.
Because for the first time since this all began…
She didn't want to run.