They sat on an overturned crate, the silence stretching between them. Damian's hand still held hers—loosely now, but it grounded her more than she cared to admit.
"I used to work for them," he said, finally. "The same people Jesse's fighting. I was good at what I did. Too good."
Alina's breath hitched. "So Jesse was right."
"Yes. But not about *everything*." Damian's jaw tightened. "I left before Jesse even knew they existed. I saw what they were becoming—how they used people. How they used me."
"And now?"
"I'm trying to burn it all down," he said. "But Jesse doesn't believe I've changed. He still thinks I'm the enemy."
Alina stared at him. "Why didn't you just tell me?"
"Because I didn't want you to see me that way. As someone who—" He broke off, looking away. "As someone who once chose the wrong side."
She reached for him this time, fingertips brushing his cheek. "I don't care who you were. I care about who you are *now*."
Their eyes met.
He leaned in slowly, giving her time to pull away.
She didn't.
When their lips met, it was soft, aching, full of confusion and longing.
But in the shadows outside, someone watched.
And he wasn't happy.