Chapter 56
Elena's POV
Damon stood in the doorway.
His hair was disheveled, his shirt wrinkled like he'd slept in it. But his eyes were sharp, sweeping the room with a focus that made my stomach drop. As he walked in, the air shifted with him. I felt it immediately—the change in scent. His musk and leather turned sharper, more aggressive, filling the small space with the intensity of territorial awareness.
He looked at me first, then at Caleb, then back at the monitor displaying the frozen frame of Scarlett and me on the slopes.
Caleb didn't even look up at him. His fingers kept moving, pulling up another camera angle. The temperature in the room seemed to drop.
I wanted to say something, but my throat locked.
Damon's jaw tightened. "Elena, we need to talk."
"I'm busy." The words came out lighter than I expected.
His eyes narrowed, something dark flashing across his face.
"Look at this." Caleb's voice cut through the tension. He clicked play.
The screen showed Scarlett and me. Right before she fell.
I leaned closer, my heart racing.
But the camera angle was wrong.
It captured us from behind and the side. I could see Scarlett leaning in to say something, could see her hand on my arm. Then she suddenly slid backward. My body froze in place.
But the audio was off. The angle didn't catch her face either—couldn't tell if she deliberately fell or genuinely lost her balance.
"Can you zoom in?" I asked, hating the desperation in my voice.
The footage looked... inconclusive. She fell. I didn't help her. Those were the only facts a third party could confirm.
Caleb squinted and replayed the moment, slowing it down. I could feel his frustration radiating off him in waves, though his expression stayed carefully blank. He knew what really happened. Might even smell Scarlett's lies through the recording. But knowing and proving were two different things.
Behind me, Damon exhaled slowly. "So you can't prove anything."
My hands clenched in my lap. "I told you what happened—"
"She told me a different version too." His voice was hard. "The surveillance doesn't show who's lying."
That word—lying—hit like a slap. I stood too fast, the chair scraping harshly against the floor. "I'm leaving."
Caleb stood too, his body automatically moving beside me.
"Elena." Damon's hand shot out, fingers wrapping around my wrist. His grip was iron, hot enough to burn against my skin. "We're not done talking."
"I think enough was said yesterday. Or do you have more accusations to throw at me?"
His hand tightened. "You ran to him." The words came out rough, almost an accusation. "You didn't call me. Didn't text. You went straight to him."
"Let her go." Caleb's voice cut through the air like a blade—flat, cold, utterly uncompromising.
Damon's eyes flicked to him, something dangerous flashing in the gold-brown depths.
They stood there, less than three feet apart, the air between them charged with threatening electricity.
I felt it before I saw it—both of them shifting. Damon's eyes flashed gold for an instant. Caleb's turned full amber.
The musky scent intensified, mixing with the sharp bite of cedar and snow. Their pheromones were colliding, filling the small room with such aggressive force.
"Stop it!" I yanked my arm free, wedging myself between them. "Are you insane? There are cameras everywhere! People will see—"
My words cut through the territorial madness gripping them. Caleb's eyes faded back to normal brown. Damon clenched his jaw, forcing his wolf down.
But the hatred between them didn't diminish.
"One phone call and I can have you kicked out of Vance Industries," Damon said in a low voice.
The threat hung in the air like poison gas. I felt Caleb go absolutely still beside me, felt that stillness more dangerous than any movement.
I turned to him, my heart in my throat. "You should leave first."
His eyes snapped to mine. "Elena—"
"Please." I kept my voice steady even as panic climbed up my throat. "I'll call you later. Go handle your work. I'm fine."
The muscle in his jaw jumped. He knew what I was doing.
The door clicked shut softly.
Damon grabbed my wrist again, harder this time. "We're leaving. Now."
"You're hurting me."
He didn't let go. Just started dragging me toward the exit.
"What, you need to cripple my hand before you're done venting for Scarlett?" The words came out sharper than I intended, full of pain and frustration.
His hand released like I'd burned him.
I cradled my wrist against my chest. Red marks were already forming where his fingers had pressed.
"I didn't mean to—"
"Save it." I pushed past him into the hallway.
When we reached the parking lot, he grabbed me again. "Is this revenge? Did he convince you to get back at me?"
I stared at him. "Are you serious right now?"
"What else am I supposed to think? A month ago you were soft and accommodating, now you're constantly angry, spending all night with strange men, making accusations—"
"I want my suitcase."
He blinked. "What?"
"My luggage. It's still in your car."
"That's what you care about? Your luggage?"
"I'm leaving, Damon. I'm done with this place, done with the lies, done with being your convenient scapegoat. Give me my luggage and I'll disappear from your life."
Something flashed across his expression—shock, maybe. Or hurt. "You're choosing him? Choosing to be my enemy?"
"Caleb is..." I hesitated, searching for the right words. "Caleb is my... important friend."
"More important than our decades of connection?"
The laugh that escaped me was brittle. "What 'us'? There never was an 'us,' Damon. Just a contract our grandfathers made before we were born."
"That's not true—"
"We ended yesterday. When you looked at Scarlett's tears and decided they were worth more than my words."
"So what—you and Caleb, what? You're with him now?"
"That's none of your business."
"Of course it's my business. That guy—" His lip curled. "His blood is dirty, Elena. Tainted with rogue filth. He's basically contaminated. And now when I look at you, knowing you've been with him, letting him touch you—it makes me sick."
The words hit like a slap.