Isabella Hawthorne
"No, Damien," I whispered, trying with all my might to maintain eye contact with him. The words felt heavy on my tongue, a desperate attempt to hold onto a shred of composure. As soon as they left my lips, a roar filled my ears – the pounding of my own terrified heart. The memory of him, fangs bared, hunger raw in his eyes, still sent shivers down my spine. Yet, the paralyzing fear from earlier was gone, replaced by a strange mix of wariness and… something else. "I am not afraid."
Maybe it was foolish, perhaps naive, but a sliver of faith bloomed in my chest. Damien had shown a restraint that bordered on the superhuman. Even while consumed by the bloodlust, he'd stopped. The memory of that hesitation, that flicker of something human battling the beast within him, offer
