The shift was subtle, but Damon saw it clearly, watched it unfold across her face like a crack forming in polished glass.
His words had landed exactly where he wanted them to, with a precision that was close to perfect, not with force, not with accusation, but with that careful mix of warmth and doubt that made people question themselves more effectively than confrontation ever could.
Damon had carved this experience from years of dealing with smart people, both werewolves and humans in the city where competition was at a very high side.
He could almost see the battle happening behind Daisy’s eyes, pride fighting against fear, control slipping just enough to expose the insecurity she worked so hard to bury.
"Okay," she exhaled finally, the word leaving her like it cost something. She stepped closer, closing the space between them until the air felt charged and intimate.
"Promise me you won’t tell Ravyn, or I’ll make your life really miserable. Besides, he’ll never take your word over mine."
There it was, the threat wrapped in vulnerability, the reminder of her influence tucked inside a plea.
She needed him silent, but she also needed him on her side, and in many other ways, and that contradiction pulsed beneath her tone.
"I already know that," Damon replied calmly, not flinching, not retreating, his voice steady in a way that unsettled her more than anger would have.
There was no challenge in his tone, no attempt to compete with her position, just quiet awareness, and somehow gave her the comfort she craved.
No matter how powerful Damon was, he was afraid of her, or so she thought, and that made her feel powerful.
Her gaze dropped for a second, lashes lowering as if she were collecting herself, then looked back up at him with a different expression entirely. The sharpness softened, the defensiveness thinned, and curiosity slid in where tension had been.
"Do you have a girlfriend?" she asked suddenly, the question almost too casual to match the intensity of the moment. She had easily won against Seraphine with Ravyn, and other women whom she had silenced in ways no one expected.
With a click of the finger, she was most certain to destroy, win against, or eliminate any woman who stood in her way of making Damon her spare tire, just in case Seraphine’s blows became to hard for him to bear.
Damon frowned faintly, genuinely surprised by the shift, though he recovered quickly. He tilted his head slightly, studying her as though trying to understand what she was really asking.
"No," he answered slowly. "Why do you ask?"
She hesitated just long enough to make it feel intentional, her fingers brushing lightly against the edge of the desk beside her as though she needed something to steady herself.
"Anyone you like?" she pressed gently, her voice quieter now, stripped of its earlier edge.

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