Mira's POV
The worst part wasn't fear.
It was how quickly I adapted to it.
By the time I got home that night, the world had already rearranged itself around what I now knew—or at least suspected. The walls of my bedroom looked the same. My bed was still unmade from that morning. My reflection in the mirror was still mine.
And yet, nothing felt untouched.
I locked the door behind me and leaned against it, palms flat against the wood, breathing slowly. My heart was still racing, but not wildly. Not panicked.
Measured.
That realization unsettled me more than anything else.
"You're handling this too well," I murmured to my reflection.
The girl staring back didn't answer. She looked paler than usual, eyes too bright, like she'd been awake for days instead of hours. There was something alert in her posture, a tension I didn't remember carrying before.
I crossed the room and sat on the edge of my bed, phone heavy in my hand.
No new messages.
The silence felt intentional.
I didn't know why I was relieved.
My mind replayed the hallway again and again—Magnus's voice, low and deliberate, the way he'd said my name like it carried weight. And then Damion, appearing as if summoned by my thoughts, his presence cutting through the air like a blade.
If you stay near me much longer… things will stop making sense.
I swallowed.
They already had.
I lay back and stared at the ceiling, letting my thoughts unravel. The stalker. The disappearances. The temperature shifts. The way certain men felt… wrong, like my instincts were shouting warnings my brain refused to translate.
I'd spent years loving stories about monsters.
I just never thought one would step out of the shadows and look at me like he knew my ending.
Damion's POV
Lies are easiest when they're built from truth.
That's what I reminded myself as I stood in my office the following morning, city stretching endlessly beyond the glass. I'd already neutralized the immediate threat. The stalker wouldn't return—not to her, not to anyone.
But damage had been done.
Mira Ross had crossed a line of awareness she couldn't retreat from.
And Magnus had helped her do it.
"You shouldn't have gone near her," I said, not turning as Magnus entered.
"You shouldn't have left her unguarded," he replied easily.
I faced him slowly. "You interfered."
"I spoke," he corrected. "You're the one who's been circling her life like a ghost."
"I've been protecting her."
Magnus laughed quietly. "From what? Yourself?"
My jaw tightened.
"She doesn't need your curiosity," I said. "Or your tests."
"She's already testing herself," he shot back. "You can't cage awareness once it wakes up."
I stepped closer, lowering my voice. "You will not see her again."
"That wasn't the agreement."
"There was no agreement."
Magnus tilted his head, studying me with unsettling calm. "You're afraid."
"I'm cautious."
"No," he said softly. "You're attached."
The word hit harder than it should have.
"I won't let you turn her into collateral," I said.
"And I won't let you lie to her until the truth kills her anyway," he replied.
Silence stretched between us, sharp and old.
"You're choosing her," Magnus said finally.
"Yes."
"And if it costs you control?"
"I'll manage."
His gaze hardened. "And if it costs you me?"
I didn't answer.
Because I already knew the cost.
Mira's POV
The next few days passed in a strange half-light.
Nothing overt happened. No shadows leapt from corners. No impossible acts unfolded before my eyes. Life, on the surface, continued as it always had.
That didn't make it normal.
I found myself cataloging things now—patterns, absences, moments that didn't quite align. I noticed how often I felt watched without seeing anyone. How certain rooms felt colder for no reason. How mirrors unsettled me when they hadn't before.
And Damion King was everywhere.
In the news. In business articles. In quiet conversations my parents thought I wasn't listening to.
"He's impressive," my father said over breakfast one morning. "Disciplined. Strategic. Dangerous in the right ways."
I nearly laughed.
Instead, I nodded. "He's… intense."
My mother smiled knowingly. "That's power."
I didn't argue.
Later that afternoon, my assistant informed me Damion would be attending a private strategy meeting with my father. A small thing. Routine.
Still, my pulse jumped.
I told myself it was coincidence.
I was getting very good at lying to myself.
Damion's POV
I chose my words carefully when I saw her again.
She entered the conference room mid-discussion, posture composed, expression neutral—but her eyes flicked to me instantly. Recognition flared. Something else, too.
Caution.
Good.
"Mira," I said evenly. "I didn't expect you."
"Neither did I," she replied. "But plans change."
They did.
The meeting passed without incident. I spoke when necessary, kept my distance, gave her nothing she could grasp onto. No slips. No pressure shifts. No unnatural silences.
Control.
When it ended, I excused myself first.
She followed.
"I don't like being lied to," she said quietly once the hallway emptied.
I stopped, turned.
"I haven't lied to you," I replied.
"You didn't tell me the truth."
A fair accusation.
"I told you what you needed," I said instead.
Her eyes narrowed. "That's not your decision to make."
"No," I agreed softly. "But it is my responsibility."
She studied me, searching for cracks.
"Why do I feel like you're always five steps ahead of me?" she asked.
I held her gaze. "Because you are walking toward something you don't understand yet."
"And you do?"
"Yes."
"Then help me."
The urge to tell her everything nearly broke me.
Instead, I stepped back.
"Not yet," I said. "Trust me."
Her lips parted, frustration flashing across her face.
"I don't trust you," she said.
I nodded. "That's wise."
And I walked away before the lie could collapse.
Magnus's POV
Watching them from a distance was torture.
Not because of jealousy—at least not entirely—but because Damion was repeating an old pattern. The careful omission. The protective deception. The belief that love could be engineered through control.
It never ended well.
"She's not like the others," I murmured to myself, perched high above the city as dusk bled into night.
Mira Ross was evolving.
And Damion was clinging to rules written for a world that no longer existed.
I smiled faintly.
If he wouldn't adapt…
I would.
Mira's POV
That night, the message came again.
Unknown Number:
You spoke to him today.
I didn't hesitate this time.
Mira:
Yes.
A pause.
Then—
And you still don't see it.
My fingers hovered.
Mira:
See what.
Three dots appeared.
Disappeared.
Then—
That he's lying better than I ever did.
My breath caught.
Mira:
Who are you.
The reply came slower than usual.
Someone who isn't afraid of what you're becoming.
I stared at the screen, pulse hammering.
For the first time, I didn't feel hunted.
I felt recruited.
And that terrified me.