A SHATTERING HALT

Lana’s world was spinning.

She felt weightless and consumed, lost beneath Damian’s touch, his lips, the heat of him.

Every inch of her skin was on fire, every nerve ending burning with a need she didn’t understand but desperately craved.

And Damian—

He was everywhere.

His mouth, his hands, the way his body pressed her into the mattress, molding against her like he belonged there.

Lana gasped as he rolled his hips again, a slow, agonizing friction that made her body tremble.

It was too much.

And not enough.

She could feel the sharp edge of desperation in his touch, the tension in his body, the restraint hanging by a thread.

His name escaped her lips in a breathless whimper, her head tilting back, surrendering to the pleasure rushing through her.

Damian growled, his teeth grazing her throat, his fingers dragging up her inner thigh—

But then—

Something snapped.

A flicker of panic pierced through the haze, slicing through the heat, tearing through the pleasure.

This was a lie.

She wasn’t here because he wanted her.

It was a game—a dangerous, wicked game where she was supposed to be in control.

And she was about to lose everything.

Her breath hitched.

Her body stiffened.

And suddenly—she wasn’t melting into him anymore.

She was fighting.

“No,” she gasped, pushing against his chest, struggling against the weight of him, against the sheer force of his presence.

Damian’s body froze.

For a second, he didn’t move—his breath harsh, his muscles taut, his heartbeat pounding against hers.

Then, slowly, he lifted his head.

His gaze was wild, dark with unfulfilled hunger, with raw, aching need.

He looked at her like he was on the edge of madness—like if she said the word, he’d devour her whole.

His voice was hoarse, strained.

“Lana…”

But she shook her head, her heart hammering, her hands pressing harder against his chest.

“I—I can’t.”

Damian stared at her.

His jaw clenched.

His hands, once so firm and demanding, loosened.

And then—he pushed himself up, the heat of his body ripping away from hers, leaving her cold, empty.

The loss was instant.

Lana swallowed, pulling the sheets over her trembling body, watching as he sat on the edge of the bed, his back to her.

His shoulders were tense, his breath heavy.

Seconds stretched, thick with unspoken tension.

Then—he laughed.

A low, bitter sound.

“Of course,” he muttered, running a hand through his disheveled hair. “Of course.”

Lana’s chest tightened.

She opened her mouth, wanting to say something, to explain, but—

Damian was already standing.

When he turned back to her, his gaze was hard.

Something in his expression closed off.

“You don’t even know what you want,” he murmured, voice low, dangerous.

Lana’s stomach knotted.

That wasn’t true.

She did know.

She just couldn’t give in to it.

She wanted him, God, she wanted him, but she couldn’t let herself fall into this—not when it would destroy her.

Damian exhaled sharply, dragging a hand down his face.

Then—without another word, without even looking at her—

He turned, yanked the conjoined door open, and stormed out.

The door slammed shut behind him.

Lana sat there, her breath shaky, her heart pounding against her ribs.

Her body was still burning, still aching from his touch, from what almost happened—

From what she wanted to happen.

She curled her fingers into the sheets, gripping them tightly, forcing herself to breathe.

Outside, the hotel was silent.

But in the next room, she swore she heard something—

A harsh, frustrated curse.

And then—

Nothing.

Lana squeezed her eyes shut.

Because she knew—

things would never be the same again.

………………………..

The dimly lit lounge smelled of expensive cigars and aged whiskey. Low jazz hummed through hidden speakers, weaving seamlessly into the quiet murmur of conversation. Lillith sat in a private booth, one leg crossed over the other, her black satin dress clinging to her figure as she swirled the amber liquid in her glass.

Opposite her, a man sat in the shadows, his face obscured by the flickering candlelight.

“Lana Grey,” she murmured, taking a slow sip of her drink. “Tell me, what do you know about her?”

The man didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he leaned back, the faintest smirk tugging at his lips. His fingers tapped rhythmically against the edge of his glass, the ice inside clinking softly.

Lillith wasn’t in the mood for games.

“She came out of nowhere,” she continued, her tone deceptively casual. “No real history, no family connections, nothing that makes sense.” She set her drink down, her perfectly manicured nails glinting under the dim light. “That’s not normal.”

A deep chuckle came from across the table. “Since when do you care about normal?”

Lillith’s lips curled. “Since Damian got involved.”

At that, the man finally moved. He reached for his own drink, taking a slow sip, watching her over the rim of his glass. His gaze was unreadable, but Lillith had dealt with men like him before. Always quiet. Always calculating.

“You think she’s a threat?” he asked.

Lillith exhaled a soft laugh, tapping a fingernail against her glass. “I think she’s a liar.”

The man said nothing, but she felt the shift in his posture—subtle, but there. Interest.

“I need information,” she pressed, leaning forward slightly. “Deep. The kind you don’t find in government records or a simple background check.”

Another pause. Then, he smirked.

“Now that,” he said, “will cost you.”

Lillith tilted her head, studying him. The candlelight cast sharp shadows across his jaw, emphasizing the dangerous amusement in his eyes.

“I don’t mind paying,” she murmured. “As long as you get me what I need.”

A silence stretched between them, thick with unspoken words.

Then, he reached into his pocket, pulled out a lighter, and flicked it open. The tiny flame danced between them, casting eerie shadows over his face.

“I’ll be in touch,” he said simply.

And with that, he stood, disappearing into the darkened lounge as effortlessly as he had arrived.

Lillith picked up her drink again, but she didn’t sip it this time. She only watched the candle flicker, her mind already spinning.

She would find out who Lana Grey really was.

And when she did—

She would make sure Damian knew exactly who he was dealing with.