The silence lasted one heartbeat.

Then chaos erupted like a bomb. Women screamed, men shouted profanities, furniture crashed as people stumbled blindly.


In the mayhem, the grip on my arm vanished.

Damian was gone.

Bodies jostled me from all sides, but in my world, only one thing existed.


Darkness.

Thick, suffocating darkness that threatened to devour me whole.


Blood drained from my face as cold sweat soaked my dress. I collapsed against a wall, curling into myself, desperate for oxygen that wouldn't come.

Jesus. Can't breathe.

A soft laugh floated above me, dripping with venom.

Then came the pain.

Something hard and metallic slammed into my skull repeatedly. My ears rang with each impact.

Sienna.

She yanked me up by my hair, her hot breath hissing against my face. "You fucking bitch. You dare hit me?"

She shoved cigarette ash into my mouth. I gagged and retched as my stomach revolted. The blows kept coming, blood streaming down my face, blurring my vision with crimson.

Terror, amplified by the darkness, overwhelmed me. I sobbed like a lost child, calling the name I both loathed and needed:

"Damian…"

The answer was another vicious slap.

"You pathetic, darkness-phobic trash," Sienna's voice dripped with sadistic pleasure. "Should've died in that warehouse with your crazy mother."

Her words were a rusty key, unlocking the darkest chamber of my memory—a room I'd sealed shut years ago.

Suddenly, I was seventeen again.

The windowless warehouse. Air thick with rust and mold. Mom and I trapped for five endless days and nights.

Our kidnappers were Dad's business rivals. And the one who sold us out? My own father.

"Lori, eat." Mom pushed the final crust of stale bread into my palm, her cracked lips barely moving. "Eat. You need strength to survive."

I shook my head, tears streaming, but she forced my jaw open and pushed the bread in.

On the fifth day, she went still.

I cradled her cold body. Watched helplessly as the woman who'd always been gentle and beautiful grew rigid in my arms, the first hints of decay tainting the air.

I didn't cry. I just lay there, eyes wide open, staring into the void.

In the end, it was Damian.

It was Damian—then just a street-tough kid from Queens, scarred but with wolf-bright eyes—who kicked in that warehouse door and pulled me from hell with nothing but a flashlight beam.

Those were the darkest days of my existence.

This secret I'd shared with only one soul: Damian.

And he'd told Sienna.

……

Blood pulsed from my mouth, mixing with ash—bitter, metallic, vile. I sobbed uncontrollably, as if trying to purge my body of every last tear.

I heard Damian's voice nearby, edged with panic.

"Lori! Where are you? Aurora!"

I fought to call out, to answer him—my only lifeline in this darkness.

But my voice was drowned by another—weak, tearful, feminine.

"Damian! I fell—my ankle… God, it hurts so bad."

Sienna.

Footsteps pounded in her direction. Then the unmistakable sounds of someone being lifted, carried swiftly toward the exit.

He rushed past me, his sleeve brushing my shoulder.

He never saw me huddled in the corner, blood streaming down my face.

My phone screen suddenly illuminated the darkness.

A message from Damian.

Cold text, sharp as an icicle, stabbed into my vision.

"Lori, beg me, and I'll come find you."

I stared at those words and suddenly laughed—a hollow sound as I choked back tears.

How fucking familiar those words were.

He'd said the exact same thing when we divorced.