Chapter 47 Serena

• The silence that lingered in the aftermath of Damien’s warning pressed down heavier than any storm Ivy had ever endured. It was not the silence of peace, nor the silence of rest; it was the silence of a predator waiting, a stillness meant to unnerve and test the limits of one’s composure. Every step she took across the dimly lit hall of the Santorini safehouse echoed in her ears, magnified by the knowledge that Damien’s watchful gaze never left her. He stood by the broad window with his back to her, his presence eclipsing even the glow of the moon that spilled through the glass. One hand rested in the pocket of his tailored trousers while the other toyed idly with the lighter she had come to associate with him—a metallic flick, a pause, then another flick, as though the rhythm was a clock counting down to something inevitable.
• Ivy wanted to look away from him, to break free of the oppressive weight his stillness carried, but she knew better. Turning her gaze away from Damien was like exposing one’s throat to a wolf; it was not an act of defiance, but an invitation to be torn apart. So she held her ground, spine straight, hands clasped in front of her as though the fragile poise of a woman who had learned obedience might still shield the fury of the woman who plotted vengeance in secret.
• “You think I don’t see it, don’t you?” Damien’s voice was low, almost thoughtful, but the dangerous undertone threaded through it like a knife hidden beneath velvet. He didn’t turn around; his reflection in the glass was enough, his dark eyes catching the light as if they had been sculpted to unsettle.