Aria's POV
"You really think a GPS chip will stop him?" I snapped, pacing the length of the penthouse living room like a cornered animal. Every step echoed like a warning bell across the marble floors.
Damon didn't even glance up from his phone. His thumbs moved fast, issuing silent commands, each tap a quiet declaration of control. "It's not a chip. It's a tracker app. And yes. It's a precaution."
His tone was calm—too calm—and that only fueled the fire rising in my chest. Like I was the one being unreasonable for worrying about the man who had just walked into our lives like a ghost.
"Precaution?" I scoffed, my voice too loud in the high-ceilinged silence. "He waltzed into your home, Damon. Into our home. That wasn't a warning shot. That was a damn declaration."
His eyes finally met mine—stormy, unreadable, but shadowed with something close to fear. Not for himself. For me.
