Her heart was still racing—not just from the argument, but from how easily Damon had reversed the roles, as if he were simply reminding her that nothing she did would truly surprise him.
She took a deep breath, looked away for a second… and then looked back at him firmly.
"Damon…" Her voice came out lower than she intended, almost a whisper. "I need to know."
He stopped smiling.
Not because he was bothered, but because he finally realized that, despite all the anger, all the tension, there was something genuinely vulnerable there. She needed a real answer.
And Damon rarely denied her anything.
He leaned his shoulder against the wall, relaxing his posture, but his eyes remained fixed on her, sharp.
"I didn't hurt him," he began, directly, without beating around the bush.
Morgana raised an eyebrow, suspicious.
Damon gave a half-smile, as if amused by her disbelief.
