Diana's pulse thundered in her ears.
Rhys's grip was firm but not crushing, his eyes locked on hers with an urgency she hadn't seen before.
"Now, Diana," he hissed. "Before he sees—"
But Damien already saw.
He was a shadow in motion, pinning his opponent by the throat, the other man's feet scraping the polished floor. His head turned just enough for their eyes to meet.
His lips didn't move, but she heard it in her bones.
Don't you dare.
Rhys's fingers tightened. "You want to know what he's hiding? This is your only chance."
The chaos of voices, glass crunching underfoot, the harsh flicker of the emergency lights—it all blurred.
For a moment she was back in Damien's war room, back in the night he told her she didn't get to leave without his permission.
And then she was here, in the same breathless space between danger and decision.
She pulled her arm from Rhys's hand. "I'm not going anywhere with you."
Rhys's face shuttered. "You're making a mistake."
"Maybe," she said, voice steady. "But it's my mistake to make."
---
Damien's opponent hit the floor with a grunt as Damien released him.
He crossed the distance to Diana in measured, lethal strides, each step an unspoken claim.
His hand slid around the back of her neck—firm, possessive—as he drew her into the shelter of his body.
"Wise choice," he murmured, the words low enough for only her to hear.
Rhys's jaw flexed. "This isn't over."
Damien's eyes cut to him, cold enough to freeze. "It was over the second she stayed."
Security swarmed the gallery, and in moments the chaos was swept away, leaving only the glitter of shattered glass and the heavy press of silence.
---
The ride back to the estate was quiet, but not calm.
Damien's hand remained on her thigh the entire way—not stroking, not squeezing—just there, a silent reminder of the decision she'd made.
When they reached the gates, he spoke without looking at her.
"You'll tell me everything he said to you."
She kept her gaze forward. "And if I don't?"
He turned to her then, the faintest curl of a smile on his lips.
"Then I'll find out myself. But I'd rather hear it from you."
She almost laughed. "You think I'm afraid of you?"
"No," he said simply. "I think you should be."
---
Later, alone in her chamber, Diana replayed the moment over and over.
She had chosen him.
Not because she trusted him—God, she didn't—but because running with Rhys had felt like stepping into a trap she couldn't see the edges of.
At least with Damien, the cage was visible.
And yet… a part of her burned with the memory of Rhys's words.
This is your only chance.
She didn't know if that was a promise or a threat.
---
Across the estate, in the surveillance room, Cassie stood beside Rhys, watching the footage from the gallery.
"She stayed," Cassie said, her voice sharp with disbelief.
"She stayed this time," Rhys replied. "But she's already doubting him. All we have to do is keep tightening the screws."
Cassie's smile returned, slow and venomous.
"Oh, I'll tighten them. Until she's begging to get out."