Her Doctor Secretly Sent Photos of Her Bruises to the Mafia Boss at Midnight—His Response Was Immediate

By 8:00 a.m., the grain silo was swarming with federal agents.

Damen's team had vanished into the morning fog long before the first blue lights appeared on the horizon, leaving behind a tied-up Preston Holloway, seventy-two rescued women wrapped in thermal blankets, and a complete financial ledger that would collapse half the criminal network in Illinois.

Selene sat in the back of Damen's black Mercedes, wrapped in a blanket, drinking hot tea from a thermos Mrs. Gable had sent along.

Damen sat beside her, typing rapidly on an encrypted phone.

"Where are we going?" she asked quietly, looking out at the city streets through dark glass.

"Back to the penthouse," Damen replied. "The Syndicate lost forty million dollars and four senior operatives this morning. Their leadership in Chicago will react by noon."

"What about Ivy?"

"Ivy is currently under federal witness protection," Damen said. "My lawyers arranged her immunity deal two hours ago. She is being relocated to a private estate in Vermont under a new identity. She will never have to see Preston Holloway again."

Selene closed her eyes, letting out a long breath. "Thank you."

"Don't thank me," Damen said flatly. "It was business."

"Saving seventy-two women and freeing an abused wife isn't business, Damen," she said, opening her eyes to look at his sharp profile. "Why do you pretend to be a monster when you spend half your time fixing what monsters break?"

Damen stopped typing. He set his phone on his knee and turned to face her.

"Because in Chicago, if people think you're a saint, they step on you," he said coldly. "If they think you're a monster, they stay out of your way. I like my way clear, Selene."

"And what about me?" she asked softly. "Am I in your way?"

Damen stared at her for a long, silent moment. His hand moved slowly, his long fingers reaching out to gently touch the edge of her jaw, his thumb brushing over her lower lip where a tiny drop of rain had dried.

"You," Damen murmured, his voice dropping into a deep, dark register, "are the only person in this city who looks at me without fear. And that makes you extremely dangerous to my peace of mind."

Before Selene could answer, the driver hit the brakes hard.