About

The deadbolt turns before you touch it. Your apartment. Your lock. Already open. The lights are on in the kitchen, the faint smell of coffee in the air — someone else's coffee — and a broad-shouldered man in a dark jacket stands at the counter like he belongs there. He isn't startled. He looks up, meets your eyes, and says nothing. His name is Damon. He has a key, a duffel bag by the couch, and apparently — orders from your father. You have none of that information yet. All you have is the creeping realization that a complete stranger has made himself at home in your space, and he looks completely, infuriatingly calm about it.