Damion's POV
There are moments even immortals recognize as thresholds.
They feel like silence before thunder—heavy, charged, impossible to undo once crossed.
I felt it the instant the blood spilled that night.
Not the blood in my penthouse. That had been a mistake born of restraint. This was different. This was deliberate.
The man never saw me coming.
He'd followed her poorly—too close, too obvious, emboldened by anonymity and years of believing himself untouchable. Humans like that always mistook obsession for entitlement.
I intercepted him two blocks from Mira Ross's building.
He smelled of anticipation and sweat and cheap cologne. His pulse raced when he realized he wasn't alone.
"Who the hell—"
I broke his wrist before he finished the sentence.
Bone snapped cleanly, sound sharp and final.
He screamed.
I dragged him into the alley, shadows folding around us like a willing accomplice. He fought, of course. They always did. It never mattered.
"You've been watching her," I said calmly.
"I—I don't know what you're talking about—"
I leaned close, letting just enough of myself surface. Not the truth. Not fully. Just the wrongness.
His eyes went wide.
"Please," he choked. "I didn't—"
"You lied," I said.
I fed quickly.
Cleanly.
Not enough to kill him—but enough to ensure he would never come near her again. Enough that fear would brand itself into his bones.
When I let him collapse, shaking and broken, I wiped my mouth and vanished.
The city swallowed me whole.
That was the moment I crossed the line.
Because I didn't do it for balance.
I did it for her.
Mira's POV
Something changed.
I woke before my alarm, heart pounding, skin warm like I'd been standing too close to a fire. My dreams clung to me—dark, indistinct shapes, the feeling of being watched not with hunger, but with intent.
Protection.
The thought startled me.
I sat up, pressing a hand to my chest, listening to my heartbeat slowly settle.
"Get it together," I murmured.
But even as I moved through my morning routine, that sense of wrongness lingered—like the air had shifted overnight and hadn't told me why.
On my way to the office, I passed an alley roped off with police tape.
Two officers spoke quietly near the entrance. An ambulance idled nearby, lights off but engine running.
Curiosity tugged at me.
I slowed, peering past the tape.
A man sat on the curb, pale and shaking, his arm splinted awkwardly, eyes unfocused like he'd seen something that had shattered him from the inside out.
My stomach twisted.
"What happened?" I asked one of the officers without thinking.
He glanced at me, hesitated. "Assault. Guy claims he was attacked by… something."
Something.
I felt cold.
As I walked away, my phone buzzed.
Unknown Number:
You're safe.
My steps faltered.
Mira:
How do you know.
The reply came slower than usual.
Because I made sure of it.
My breath caught painfully in my throat.
That wasn't reassurance.
That was confession—without context.
Without detail.
Without a name.
And somehow, deep down, I understood exactly what it meant.
Magnus's POV
Damion reeked of blood when he returned.
Fresh.
Human.
Controlled—but barely.
"You crossed it," I said, meeting him on the rooftop before he even spoke.
His jaw tightened. "He was a threat."
"He was a human."
"So is she," Damion snapped. "And he won't touch her again."
Silence fell between us, heavy with implication.
"You fed," I said quietly. "For her."
He didn't deny it.
"That's not containment," I continued. "That's attachment."
"I don't care what you call it."
I studied him, ancient and fraying at the edges. "You just set something in motion you can't rewind."
"I know."
"And if she finds out?"
"She won't," he said sharply.
I smiled faintly. "She already has."
His eyes darkened. "No."
"She felt it," I said. "You know she did. Humans like her always do."
"She doesn't know what," he said.
"Not yet."
I leaned closer. "You're losing the advantage of distance."
"I'm choosing proximity."
That worried me more than anything else.
Mira's POV
I didn't mean to meet him.
That was the worst part.
I was leaving a late meeting when the power cut out—just for a moment. The building plunged into darkness, murmurs rippling through the hallway.
Emergency lights flickered on.
And there he was.
Standing near the stairwell, half in shadow.
The man from the street.
The elevator.
My pulse slammed against my ribs.
"You," I breathed.
He turned fully, expression calm, eyes sharp and unsettlingly aware.
"Easy," he said. "I'm not here to hurt you."
"I didn't say you were," I replied, hating the tremor in my voice.
His gaze flicked to the security cameras, then back to me. "We shouldn't talk long."
"Then why are you here?"
A pause.
"To see if you'd notice."
I swallowed. "I did."
"I know."
That sent a shiver down my spine.
"Who are you?" I asked.
He hesitated—just a fraction. "Magnus."
"Last name?"
A smile touched his lips. "That's complicated."
My heart pounded. "You were watching me."
"Yes."
"And you think that's okay?"
"No," he said honestly. "But it's interesting."
I crossed my arms. "You're not human."
It wasn't a question.
His eyes darkened, not with anger—but surprise.
"Careful," he murmured. "You don't want answers yet."
"I do."
"You want explanations," he corrected. "That comes later."
A footstep echoed down the hall.
Magnus straightened. "We're out of time."
"Wait," I said. "You can't just—"
"I can," he replied softly. "And I will."
He leaned closer, voice low. "But tell me something, Mira Ross."
My breath caught.
"When you think of danger," he said, "why does your mind go to the wrong man?"
Before I could answer, he stepped back—and vanished into the stairwell shadows like he'd never been there.
Damion's POV
I felt it the moment Magnus spoke to her.
The city itself seemed to recoil.
Rage flared hot and vicious, shredding the careful restraint I'd clung to for centuries. I appeared in the hallway moments too late—her scent still sharp, Magnus already gone.
She stood there, shaken but standing.
Strong.
Alive.
Aware.
"Mira," I said quietly.
She turned.
Our eyes met.
And in that instant, I knew—
Whatever game I thought I was playing…
She was already inside it.
Mira's POV
Damion King stood before me like he belonged there.
Like he always had.
The hallway felt too small. Too quiet.
"You," I whispered.
His gaze searched my face, something unreadable flickering beneath the surface. "Are you hurt?"
The question felt… intimate.
"No," I said slowly. "But I think I should be."
Silence stretched.
"You need to leave," he said.
"Why?"
"Because," he replied, voice controlled to the edge of breaking, "if you stay near me much longer… things will stop making sense."
My heart raced.
"They already have," I said.
He didn't argue.
That scared me more than denial ever could.
As I walked past him, my shoulder brushed his.
The air crackled.
And deep in my bones, I knew—
The dark had finally noticed me.
And it wasn't letting go.