Chapter 5 The House Isn't Safe

Mara couldn't sleep. She kept tossing on the bed. The bed in the guest room felt too soft and too quiet, trying to calm her into forgetting everything. But her mind wouldn't settle down.

She stood up carefully and walked through the marble hallway, drawn to the faint light spilling from under the study door.

It was almost 2 a.m. already, and Damon hadn't slept yet.

She stood in front of the door, hesitated before knocking.

No response. But the door was not locked.

She opened the door slowly and stepped inside.

Damon sat behind the desk, his sleeves rolled up and his shirt undone at the collar. He held a glass of whiskey in one hand and his other hand was buried in his hair. His jacket lay tossed away on the couch, and for once, his usual confident demeanor seemed to fade away, revealing a man weighed down by exhaustion.

He looked... worn out.

"Can't sleep?" he said without looking up.

"I could ask you the same."

A moment passed.

"Come in. Or don't. I won't force you."

Mara stepped in quietly, and she crossed her arms. "Why do you keep everything about me in this room?"

He finally looked at her. "Because it's the only part of my life that ever felt real."

Her heart ached at his words.

"I was just a kid when I got involved with them," Damon continued, speaking softly as he swirled the whiskey in his glass. "After my father died, they came for my mother and me. She begged them to take her instead. And just like that, they did. Right in front of me."

Mara's breath hitched.

"I became what they needed me to be-cold, strategic, ruthless." His tone darkened. "But there were rare moments when I remembered what it felt like to be human, living a normal life. Most of those moments... were because of you."

She sat down across from him, her voice gentler now. "I didn't know you carried all that."

"I never wanted you to."

Mara stared at him, trying to reconcile the boy she once knew, the one who teased her by pulling her braids, treated her to mango ice pops, and chased after stray dogs with the man before her now.

A man who killed. A man who ruled.

A man who kept her safe by locking her in a gilded cage.

"What if I don't know who you are anymore?" she asked.

Damon leaned closer, resting his arms on the desk. "Then let me show you who I am."

She looked stunned then blinked.

"I won't ask you to trust me," he added. "But I will earn that trust back, even if it takes the rest of my life."

A strange silence fell between them. It felt heavy and serious-but not unkind or cold.

He stood and walked over to the cabinet, pulling out a file and placing it before her.

"What's this?" she asked, her eyes narrowing in curiosity.

"A ledger," he replied. "It shows the moves of the Morales gang. You were on a list, along with three others associated with me-my lawyer, my driver, and... my cook." A bitter smile touched his lip. "They tried to poison him two nights ago."

Mara flipped through the pages, her pulse racing.

"You're part of this world now," he said, looking serious. "Whether we like it or not. If I don't stay ahead of them, I lose more than just territory-I lose you."

"I didn't want any of this, Damon."

"But you agreed to it."

There was a pause.

"I agreed because I didn't want to die."

His voice softened. "That's why I asked you, too."

For a moment, they just looked at each other-no conflict, no anger, no tension between them. Just broken, long-lost childhood friends.

"You should get some sleep," Damon said as he sat down again. "The media will be all over us tomorrow. Our faces will be everywhere."

Mara hesitated before nodding. She reached the door, her hand on the handle, then she turned back.

"I'm still angry at you."

"I know."

"I don't forgive you."

"I wouldn't expect you to."

A long silence filled the room, heavy with unspoken words.

"But thank you... for saving me," she whispered.

Damon didn't move. Just watched her leave.

And as the door closed softly behind her, he whispered back-

"I wasn't trying to save you. I was trying to save myself."