Aria's POV
"We can't go up there," I said, pacing the room like a cornered animal. "Not without a plan. Not with Maya's life on the line."
Damon stood near the window, unmoving, his profile carved in tension. The glow from his phone screen cast sharp shadows across his jaw.
The message burned between us: Bring the drive to the rooftop. Alone. Or she dies.
His jaw tightened, and he turned slowly, eyes locking on mine. "They said alone. If they see anyone else, they might hurt her."
"Or they might hurt you," I snapped, fists clenched so tight my nails dug into my palms. "Or both of you. Damon, this is a trap, and deep down, you know it.
Walking into this without a plan is suicide—and they're counting on you being too desperate to see that."
He didn't deny it. Didn't even flinch. The silence between us said everything—louder than any argument, heavier than any plea.
It settled between us like a loaded gun, cocked and waiting, both of us knowing exactly what it meant.
