Ava's breath caught the moment Damien's words finally sank in.
I already did.
They echoed inside her chest long after he said them, settling like cold fingers against her ribs. A dozen questions fought their way forward, but her throat refused to work. She stood frozen—hands stiff at her sides, pulse pounding too loud in her ears.
Damien didn't move.
He simply watched her, elbows resting casually on his knees, gaze fixed on her face as if he was waiting for something. A reaction. A crack. A confession.
Ava swallowed hard.
"What… what do you mean by that?" she managed, though each word scraped out thin and unsteady.
Damien tilted his head slightly, as if the question amused him.
"You're trembling," he said instead, his voice low. Observant. Too observant. "Sit."
It wasn't a suggestion.He didn't raise his tone or reach for her.But the command wrapped around her like a hand at the nape of her neck.
Ava took a step back instead.
Damien's eyes followed the movement. Slow. Unblinking. A quiet shadow passing behind them—something unreadable, something that made her stomach tighten further.
"I'm fine," she whispered.
"No," he said softly. "You're not."
A simple statement. But it stripped away every shaky defense she attempted to build.
Her fingers curled around the strap of her bag, knuckles paling. She needed to leave. To breathe. To get even a few feet of distance between her and the man who made silence feel suffocating.
But Damien stood.
Not abruptly, not threateningly… just deliberately. Each controlled inch of movement pressed down on her chest.
"Ava."
Her name left his mouth lightly, but it pinned her in place harder than a shout. She kept her eyes on the floor tiles, afraid that meeting his gaze would anchor her even more.
His shoes appeared in her line of sight—polished, unmoving, far too close.
He stopped directly in front of her.
"Look at me," Damien said.
There was no force in his touch—he didn't lay a finger on her. But his presence pressed against her like a wall.
Ava lifted her chin slowly.
His eyes were right there. Calm. Dark. Studying her as if peeling back every layer she tried to hide behind.
"You look like you're about to run."
"I'm not," she whispered.
"You are." His voice dropped a notch. "But I don't want you to."
Her breath hitched.Why her?Why this intensity?What did he think he saw in her—what did he want?
A barista called out an order in the background, breaking the tension for a heartbeat, but Damien didn't turn. Didn't blink. Didn't seem to care about the world outside the two feet between them.
"Tell me what you're scared of," he said quietly.
Ava shook her head, too quickly. "I'm not scared."
Damien gave a single, subtle exhale—almost a laugh but without any humor.
"You think lying works on me?"
Her stomach dropped.He wasn't angry.He wasn't raising his voice.His control made it worse.
"Whatever you're imagining," he continued softly, "I'm not here to hurt you."
Something in his tone made her chest tighten. A promise? A warning? Both?
He leaned a fraction closer—not enough to cross a boundary, but enough for her to feel the heat of his breath when he spoke again.
"But I don't like seeing you shake."
Ava's legs felt unsteady.She needed space.Air.Something—
"I have to go," she whispered.
Damien's jaw tensed almost imperceptibly, but he stepped aside. Creating a path.
Not saying another word.
Not stopping her.
Just watching.
Always watching.
Ava walked past him, each step heavier than the last. The moment she reached the door and pushed it open, cold air hit her face, and her lungs finally expanded.
But even as she hurried down the sidewalk, she knew without turning around—She could still feel his eyes on her.
Damien didn't need to follow her physically.
His presence clung to her skin long after she left the café.