Olivia’s POVThe morning sunlight streamed through the blinds, slashing across the dark walls of Damon’s apartment. I sat on the edge of the bed, my head resting in my hands as I tried to untangle the chaos in my mind. The events of the night before replayed like a broken record: the rain, the bar, Damon and Lucien fighting, and, of course, my father’s cold, cruel words. No matter how I looked at it, one thing was clear—I wasn’t wanted. Not by my father, not by the people of New Orleans, and maybe not even by the two men who called themselves my mates. A soft knock at the door pulled me from my thoughts. “Come in,” I said, my voice hoarse.The door creaked open, and Damon stepped inside, holding a tray with a plate of eggs, toast, and a mug of coffee. It was such an unexpected sight that I almost laughed. Almost. “Didn’t take you for the breakfast-in-bed type,” I said, forcing my voice to sound lighter than I felt. He set the tray down on the small table near the window, his expr
Last Updated : 2024-12-05
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