Chapter 7 His world,her walls

Zara

The elevator ride up to his penthouse was quiet.

Too quiet.

Not tense, just... loaded. Like every word we didn't say hung heavy in the air between us.

He stood beside me, hands in his coat pockets, jaw tight like he was fighting himself. I didn't ask what he was thinking. I already knew.

Guilt.

It rolled off him like cologne-bitter and unrelenting.

I was trying not to breathe it in too deep.

When the doors slid open, I stepped into a world I didn't recognize. Polished floors. Clean steel. Glass walls with a skyline view that made the city look small.

It didn't feel like a home.

It felt like a fortress.

Or a cage.

"Nice place," I muttered.

"Never liked it," he said. "Too quiet."

I looked at him. "Then why stay?"

He didn't answer right away.

Then finally-"Because I lost the only thing that made any place feel like home."

I exhaled slowly.

So that's the game he was playing now. Remorse.

I couldn't decide if I hated it or not.

---

He offered me the guest room.

I didn't take it.

Not because I wanted to sleep in his bed. But because I couldn't sleep at all.

I ended up in the kitchen around 2 a.m., barefoot, sipping hot tea while the city lights flickered through the glass.

Damian found me there.

He didn't say anything at first. Just leaned against the counter and watched me like he was memorizing something important.

"You always did drink tea like an old lady," he said finally.

I smirked. "And you still smell like wet ash and ego."

That made him laugh.

Soft. Real.

And for one stupid, dangerous second, it felt like nothing had ever broken between us.

Then he asked, "Do you dream about it? That night?"

I stared into my mug.

"Yes."

"Me too."

I looked at him.

"I never told anyone this," he continued. "But when I gave the order... when I said your name... my wolf howled. Like it was dying."

I swallowed.

"I told myself I was doing the right thing. Protecting everyone."

"You weren't," I said flatly.

He nodded. "I know."

Silence again.

Then-

"If I could take it back-"

"You can't."

He looked away.

"I didn't come back to fix us, Damian," I added.

"I know," he said quietly. "But part of me still hopes."

---

Damian

She curled up on the couch later, wrapped in one of my old hoodies. It still fit her, barely, the sleeves covering her hands.

She didn't say a word when I sat next to her.

Didn't move when I reached out and brushed a curl from her cheek.

But her eyes... they burned.

Not with hate this time.

With ache.

"Do you really hate me?" I asked.

"I did."

"And now?"

She looked at me like that question hurt more than it should've.

"I don't know."

I nodded.

"Fair enough."

---

She fell asleep eventually.

Right there, leaning against me.

And I didn't move.

Not for hours.

Because I knew it wouldn't last.

People like us don't get soft endings.

---

Zara

I woke to sirens.

Distant, at first. Then louder.

Then too close.

I sat up fast, heart racing.

Damian was already on his feet.

His phone buzzed once. Twice.

Then a knock.

Three fast raps.

"Security," someone barked through the door.

Damian opened it.

A man in black tactical gear stepped inside, eyes sharp. "There was a breach downstairs. Two wolves, unmarked. Took out a guard. They're gone now, but..."

"But what?" Damian asked.

The man looked at me.

"They left something."

My stomach dropped.

---

We followed him down to the lobby.

And there, scratched into the marble floor in dark red-

TRAITORS BURN

Damian's fists clenched.

I froze.

I knew that writing. That scent.

Blood and silver dust.

Black Ridge calling card.

"Why now?" I whispered. "Why break silence after all this time?"

"Because they know you're here," Damian said darkly. "And they're scared."

I looked at him.

His eyes were gold now. Wolf-slick. Ready for war.

"They should be," he added.

---

Back upstairs, I paced while he barked orders into his phone.

Security upgrades. Surveillance sweep. Emergency lockdown protocol.

I watched him like I was seeing him for the first time again.

Not the billionaire.

Not the traitor.

But the Alpha.

The one who would burn down the world for someone he finally realized he loved.

"Zara," he said, turning to me, voice quieter now. "You're not safe anymore."

I laughed bitterly. "I was never safe."

He walked toward me.

"I mean it. I'm not letting them touch you again."

I looked up at him.

"I can handle myself."

"I know," he said. "But I'm not asking permission."

He cupped my face.

And I didn't pull away.

"You think this changes anything?" I whispered.

"It changes everything."

Then he kissed me.

Not soft.

Not gentle.

Like a storm crashing into everything we'd built and broken.

And I let him.

Just for a minute.

Because some things were worth burning for.