Damien didn't believe in déjà vu.
He believed in facts. Paper trails. Numbers. Power. Control.
But there was something about the way Selena had looked at him last night on the dance floor steady, poised, unblinking that didn't feel new. It felt like something ancient. Buried. Familiar in a way that made his skin itch.
He sat alone in his study at Blackthorn Tower, the moonlight pouring through the window, casting sharp lines across his desk.
The contract lay open before him. Her version.
His Beta, Lucas, entered silently, holding a glass of scotch and a raised eyebrow.
"You've read it five times," Lucas said. "Is it growing on you?"
Damien didn't answer.
Lucas set the glass down. "What is it that's bothering you? The terms?"
"No," Damien muttered. "The girl."
Lucas tilted his head. "You don't believe her?"
"I don't believe anything about her," Damien replied. "She's not the girl I met last year. She's... sharper. Calculated. Cold."
Lucas shrugged. "Maybe she grew up."
"No," Damien said quietly. "This is something else."
He stared at the page where she'd written her conditions in perfect, elegant strokes.
I do not serve. I partner. Break this, and you lose me forever.
His jaw clenched.
Why did that sound like a threat she'd made before?
Meanwhile, at the D'Archer estate...
Selena stood barefoot in her room, a thick shawl wrapped around her shoulders. The rose from the gala had dried on her windowsill overnight, its petals curled inwards like secrets.
Maia entered quietly with tea and a sealed envelope.
"From the Blackthorn estate," she whispered. "Marked urgent."
Selena opened it with a silver dagger.
Inside was a single note.
Join me for tea. Just the two of us. Damien
She let out a soft breath.
This was it. The first test.
Later that afternoon,
Selena was escorted to a private rooftop garden in Blackthorn Tower one most nobles didn't even know existed.
There were no guards. No aides. No Elira.
Just Damien, standing in front of a white wrought-iron table, a pot of steaming tea between them.
"You came," he said.
Selena didn't smile. "Curiosity is a dangerous thing."
"So is arrogance."
She sat. "Good thing I have both."
He poured the tea. No servants. No witnesses. Just the wind and silence.
"I'm not used to being challenged," Damien said.
Selena lifted her cup. "I'm not used to surviving betrayal."
Damien paused.
That wasn't a line. It wasn't dramatic. She said it like fact. Like weather. Something she'd accepted.
"Is that what happened to you?" he asked.
She met his eyes. "You tell me."
Silence.
Then: "I feel like I've met you before," he said, quietly. "But not here. Not like this."
Selena looked away. "Maybe you met a girl who smiled too easily and didn't question anything."
She turned back to him, and her voice sharpened.
"She died."
Damien said nothing for a long time.
He studied her like a blueprint. Something dangerous and fascinating.
This wasn't how arranged marriage negotiations were supposed to go.
She wasn't supposed to be the one in control.
"Tell me what you want, Selena," he said.
"I already did," she said. "In ink."
"No," Damien said. "Not for the contract. For me."
Selena tilted her head.
"Do you want revenge? Power? The Luna title?"
"I want safety," she said, softly.
Then: "And I want the right to burn it all if someone tries to take it from me."
Damien leaned back. Her words shouldn't affect him, but they did. Deep in his chest, something stirred.
An instinct he didn't recognize.
Later, in Damien's quarters…
Lucas entered without knocking.
"You're still brooding."
Damien didn't deny it.
Lucas folded his arms. "You're not actually considering liking her, are you?"
Damien glared. "Don't be ridiculous."
Lucas smirked. "Then why are you replaying everything she said?"
"I'm studying her."
"Mm-hm."
Damien stood, pacing to the window. "She's dangerous."
"And yet you called for her privately."
"I needed to see if she was bluffing."
Lucas raised an eyebrow. "And?"
Damien didn't answer. His silence said enough.
That night, Selena sat at her desk, journal open.
She drew a second circle around Damien's name.
He's starting to look. That means he's starting to feel.
She hesitated.
Then, for the first time, added something beneath his name:
If he falls, I win. If I fall, I lose everything. Stay sharp.
She flipped the page.
At the top, she wrote:
Phase One: Disarm the Alpha.
And beneath it:
1. Control the public narrative
2. Expose Elira before she strikes
3. Keep Damien unbalanced
4. Never trust softness even your own
Selena dipped her pen again.
Time to begin.