Damon had not returned to the pack for nostalgia, pride, or some misplaced sense of loyalty that refused to die.
He had come back because of Seraphine, and that truth sat so deeply inside his chest that there was no room for denial, no room for hesitation, and certainly no room for cowardice.
If it came down to it, he would burn bridges, ruin reputations, and tear through anything that stood between her and justice without blinking twice, because the version of her he had seen recently, the version that carried pain in her silence and fire in her restraint, had carved something permanent into him.
Bryan's situation had been tragic enough on its own, a mess of loyalty and misplaced affection, but the more Damon learned about what Seraphine had actually endured, the more something dark and cold settled into his veins.
