He woke up at 3am knowing something was wrong.
Not danger.
The bond.
It was pulling.
Damian sat up slowly.
The room around him was dark except for the city light coming through the gap in the curtains — that particular orange-grey glow that meant you were high enough up that the streetlights didn't reach you directly but their reflection off every other building did.
He had been here four days.
Four days in the Walker Corporation guest suite, which was on the thirty-sixth floor and had a bathroom bigger than his living room at home and a bed that probably had a name and a price tag he would find depressing if he looked it up.
They had moved him here after day two.
Marcus had explained it briefly and practically: the cameras outside your building have increased. Three separate outlets have photographers stationed there now. Until the media attention shifts, this is safer.
Damian had looked at the room.
At the view.
