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The next morning, I stared at the mirror in my room back at the packhouse, tugging the hem of the black mini dress Damien had someone drop off.

It hugged my hips tight, low neckline showing just enough cleavage to make me second-guess.

My hair was loose, waves messy from the quick shower, lipstick dark red like I was trying to look normal but ended up looking dangerous.

Damien walked in without knocking, already dressed.

Black tailored blazer over a fitted white button-down, top two buttons open, sleeves rolled to his forearms showing ink and veins.

Dark jeans that sat low on his hips, belt buckle glinting, boots polished black. Hair swept back, jaw sharp, eyes scanning me head to toe.

“You look…” He trailed off, stepping closer. “Like you’re going to start a riot at that meet -up.”

I turned, brows furrowed. “Too much? I don’t wanna look like I’m trying too hard.” He reached out, fixed the strap on my shoulder, fingers brushing my skin. “You’re trying exactly right. They see you like this, they’ll forget you ever disappeared.”

I bit my lip, staring at our reflection. Him towering behind me, hand still on my shoulder. “What if they ask questions? Like, where I’ve been? Why I ghosted?”

“Say family stuff. Keep it vague.” He leaned in, breath on my neck. “Don’t let them get too close. Stay next to me.”

I laughed shaky. “You’re coming in like my bodyguard?”

“More like your shadow.” He pulled back, grabbed his keys from the dresser. “Car’s ready. Let’s go before I change my mind.”

I grabbed my small bag, heart thumping.

“You sure this is okay? After everything?”

He paused at the door, looked back. “You keep saying you miss human shit. Friends. Classes. Normal. So we’re doing normal. One afternoon. Then we come back.”

I nodded quick. “Thank you. Seriously.”

“Don’t thank me yet.” He smirked once, small and sharp. “You might hate me after they all stare.”

We walked out together. The packhouse halls were quiet, most people still cleaning up from the last attack mess.

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I grabbed a water, fingers tight around the bottle. “Hey Jess,” I said, voice steady.

“Long time.”

She blinked, fake smile. “Sienna! Wow, you clean up nice. What happened to the frumpy sweaters?”

I laughed once. “Grew up. You should try it.”

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More murmurs. Someone snapped a pic on their phone. I felt the stares like pins, pealous, curious, mean. “She’s probably faking it,” another voice muttered. “No way she got rich overnight.”

I turned away, heart pounding, pretending to check my phone. Then the doors opened again.

Damien walked in.

Black blazer open, white shirt sleeves rolled, jeans hugging his thighs, boots heavy on the floor. Hair swept back, jaw sharp, eyes scanning until they landed on me. The room went quiet for a beat, then exploded in whispers.

“Who the hell is that?”

“Is he with her?”

“No way. He’s hot as fuck.”

Damien cut through the crowd like it parted for him. He reached me, slid an arm around my waist, pulled me close.

“Babe,” he said loud enough for everyone nearby, voice low and warm in my ear.

“Miss me?”

I leaned into him, smiling real for the first time tonight. “Took you long enough.” He kissed my cheek slow, hand splaying on my hip. Murmurs turned to gasps.

Jess’s mouth dropped open. Phones came out again, flashes popping.

“Is that her boyfriend?”

“He’s loaded, look at him.”

“She’s with him? How?”

Jealous stares hit harder, girls who used to ignore me now glaring, guys shifting awkward. Damien didn’t care. He kept his arm around me, thumb rubbing circles on my side. “You good?” he asked quiet.

“Yeah,” I whispered back. “They’re eating it up.”.

“Let them.” He glanced around, smirking small. “They don’t know shit.”

We moved through the crowd, him introducing himself polite but short when people

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asked. “Damien. Nice to meet you.” Always with that edge, like he owned the room.

Then the doors opened again.

Marcus walked in.

He froze when he saw me. Eyes flicked to Damien’s arm around my waist, then back to my face. His jaw tightened, drink halfway to his mouth.

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