The word hovered on Lia's lips, trembling like a fragile thread pulled too tight.
Damien waited—
not blinking,
not breathing,
not moving.
He stood in front of her like a storm she could no longer hide from. His presence was heavy, unyielding, and unbearably close.
Lia's throat felt dry.
Her chest tightened.
She opened her mouth. "Damien…"
He cut her off with a look.
A single glance that made her knees weaken.
Cold. Controlled. Unforgiving.
And underneath it, something dangerous, desperate, that hadn't been there before.
"You left," he said quietly.
"Five years."
"Without a word. Without a trace. And now…" His gaze flicked toward the file in her hand. "…you bring me this?"
Lia swallowed.
"I didn't—"
"Don't lie to me, Lia."
His voice was low. Soft. Dominant. The kind of tone that demanded truth without shouting.
"You're hiding something. I can see it."
She clenched her fingers around the medical folder.
"It's… personal," she whispered.
"Just… not yours."
Damien's eyes narrowed.
"You always said nothing about you, nothing about your life, nothing about him."
He gestured sharply toward Leo's file.
"Why now? What have you been protecting all these years?"
Her lips trembled.
She looked away.
"I've been protecting him… from a world he doesn't understand."
Her voice was barely audible.
"But he's safe. That's all you need to know."
Damien's jaw tightened.
The air between them pulsed.
Every second stretched longer than any negotiation he had ever faced.
Every word Lia didn't say became a weight on his chest.
"You're hiding more than just a name, Lia," he said, voice dropping lower, almost dangerous.
"Why can't you just tell me the truth?"
Her heart pounded.
"I can't," she admitted softly. "Not yet. Some truths… they're too dangerous. For him, for me, even for you."
Damien stepped closer.
Slow. Controlled.
A presence that made her want to step back, yet rooted her in place.
"You've always run from me, Lia," he said.
"And now you're running from the truth."
She swallowed hard.
"I'm not running. I'm surviving."
He tilted his head, studying her.
The air thickened.
"You think hiding him will keep him safe?"
His tone sharpened. "Do you have any idea how long I've waited for this? How long I've—"
"Damien," she interrupted, firm but shaking. "I'm not going to put him in danger again."
His eyes blazed.
She could feel the alpha in him—the man who commanded everything around him, the man who refused to be denied, refused to wait.
He wanted answers.
And he was dangerous enough to get them.
"Lia," he said slowly, dangerously calm.
"Look at me. Now."
She did.
And for the first time in five years, she let herself meet his gaze fully.
The storm in his eyes made her want to crumble.
"You need to tell me, or I will find out anyway," he whispered.
"Every secret. Every lie. Every truth you're hiding from me. Do you understand?"
Her chest heaved.
"I… I need time," she whispered. "Just… please. Give me time."
Damien's gaze sharpened.
The air was electric.
For a moment, neither spoke, but the silence was deafening.
Then—the hospital phone rang.
A sharp, piercing sound.
Lia flinched.
Damien's eyes went instantly cold.
She picked it up. The nurse's voice trembled.
"Ms. Lia… your son… he's having trouble breathing. We need you—now."
Lia's blood ran cold.
Damien's body moved before she could even blink.
Every controlled, measured motion turned desperate.
He didn't ask. He didn't hesitate.
He followed her—fast, silent, lethal in his urgency.
The powerful alpha who ruled empires now ran for something he could not command: his child.
And as they rushed down the hallway, Lia's heart ached with fear and relief in equal measure.
Damien's gaze never left her, full of questions, fury, and something she dared not name.
And she knew, without a doubt: once he sees him… nothing will ever be the same.