Page 1 of The Enforcer (Damn! #2)

THE HUM of the computer filled the room, blending with the rapid thud of Lily Mirabella’s heartbeat. Her fingers hovered over the Enter key, hesitation flickering through her as she stared at the encrypted file, her pulse drumming in her ears.

She had everything set: the transaction details, the encrypted files, the confirmation of her buyer. The data was worth a fortune, and as soon as she sent it, her payday would be complete. She’d never need to worry about bills or shady clients again.

Her cursor moved to the final button, her fingers trembling slightly, uncertainty flickering in the air between action and regret.

Send.

The soft click was drowned out by the sudden buzz of her phone, vibrating against the desk. She didn’t think much of it at first. That was, until her screen flickered.

The file transfer completed, and then,

Every screen in her house went black.

Her monitors. Her laptop. The tablet charging on one of the spare desks her employees used. Even the TV screen mounted on the wall.

A second later, the screens flashed red, a single message burning across them:

I KNOW WHAT YOU DID.

I’M COMING FOR YOU.

WHEN I FIND YOU, YOU ARE DEAD.

Lily froze and the blood drained from her face. A chill prickled across her skin, sharp and cold, like the press of a dagger to her spine. Her pulse hammered in her ears and her mouth went dry.

The screen flickered again, the words searing into her consciousness. Whoever this was, they knew exactly who she was, what she’d done.

No. Impossible.

She erased her traces. She snuck in and out of systems like a ghost. She covered her digital footprints so well that even the best cyber forensics teams wouldn’t find her. Couldn’t find her.

So how the hell had—

A floorboard creaked.

Inside the house.

Her lungs seized. Every nerve in her body went taut, her breath halting mid-inhale. The tiny hairs along her arms lifted, her skin prickling with the instinctive awareness of something, someone, just beyond the threshold of her perception.

She wasn’t alone.

The realization sent a rush of cold through her veins, cutting through the fog of her thoughts like a blade.

Her heartbeat pounded against her ribs, each pulse a warning, a demand for action.

Adrenaline surged, sharpening her senses, stripping away every distraction until all that remained was the singular, irrefutable fact.

Someone was here.

And they weren’t supposed to be.

She forced herself to move slowly, deliberately, resisting the instinct to jerk her head toward the sound.

Sudden movements could give her away, could make whoever was in the house realize that she knew.

Instead, she let her gaze flicker subtly toward the nearest exit, mapping the space in her mind, calculating every possible escape route.

Escape. Now.

Her muscles tensed, ready to bolt. She had seconds, maybe less, before whoever was inside made their move. She had to be faster.

She took a careful step backward, her booted feet barely whispering against the hardwood. The door was five paces away. The window, closer, but riskier. Which one? Which one would get her out before—

Another creak. Closer to the steps leading up to her office this time. The footsteps echoed, slow, deliberate. Someone was wandering through her house.

Her stomach lurched.

She’d waited too long.

Her breath caught in her throat. This wasn’t a random threat blinking on her screen. The words weren’t idle. This was real.

Heavy footsteps approached, slow and steady. No time. No chance. She had zero opportunity to prepare. She knew, knew, that this was the end.

With a screech of panic, she bolted from the desk, her legs tangling in the fabric of her chair. The seconds bled into one another as she dashed for the stairs, her breath coming in ragged gasps. She nearly tripped as she reached the top step, gripping the railing to steady herself.

The sounds from below grew closer.

He was inside. Moving like a shadow, silent, predatory.

Lily’s pulse hammered so loud she could hear it. She forced herself to move, pushing through the adrenaline-laced panic. Down the stairs, her feet barely touching the wood as she hurtled toward the main floor.

And ran straight into a body, hard, unyielding, like slamming into a steel wall. The impact knocked the breath from her lungs, sent a sharp jolt through her ribs. She gasped, stumbling back, but a muscular arm shot out, snatching her before she could escape.

Her heart beat frantically against her ribcage as she saw pieces of him, a blur of dark clothes, the shimmer of sunglasses, and the scent of lethal intent.

His arm shot out, catching her by the waist. Before she could scream, he slammed her into the wall, his powerful body pinning hers, his hand tight around her neck.

The pressure against her windpipe stole the air from her lungs, and her vision blurred, the edges darkening.

The room spun.

She gasped, instinctively clawing at the iron grip locking around her neck, but the wall of muscle pressed against her didn’t budge.

The scent of leather and testosterone invaded her senses, mixing with the raw adrenaline surging through her veins. He smelled like danger, like domination, like something darkly intoxicating and absolute.

“You,” he growled, his voice a low rasp of danger, “are a problem I didn’t want to deal with.”

Her pulse thundered in her ears. Every instinct screamed to break free, but she couldn’t move. This man, this fucking man, had her trapped. He was a mountain of muscle and danger. Tall. Built like a weapon.

She clawed at the sleeve of his black leather jacket, struggling to break his grip.

He didn’t budge. His face hovered inches from hers, but she couldn’t really see what he looked like. Dark glasses concealed his eyes, covering much of his upper face. Several days’ worth of whiskers helped conceal the lower half.

“I—” She gasped for air, choking on the words. “I don’t know who you are—”

His grip tightened. Her pulse flared beneath his fingers. “You will.”

Heat rolled off him, tension coiled in every inch of his frame. Danger seeped from his pores.

Lily’s pulse slammed against his fingers.

She felt the sharp edge of his control, the way his restraint barely leashed something darker beneath the surface.

And then—

His grip tightened the slightest fraction, just enough to make her feel it.

Just enough to make her freeze.

His voice was a blade of rough iron and smoke, rasping against her skin.

“You’re mine now.”

Her breath shuddered out of her, terror and a dark, unwanted thrill curling low in her stomach, twisting into something she couldn’t voice.

She didn’t know his name. She didn’t know what he wanted.

But one thing was clear.

She had just made a mistake there was no escape from, no undoing. It was already too late.

Lily’s pulse pounded in her ears, drowning out everything but the crushing weight of his grip. Her breath came in short, frantic gasps, her nails still digging into his sleeve. She didn’t know him, but she knew what he was.

Danger and violence radiated off him, a force of pure, unrelenting might that suffocated the air between them. He wasn’t just a threat, he was inevitability, the kind of danger that didn’t come with warnings, only consequences.

He pinned her effortlessly, his grip unyielding, a silent command. There was no wasted movement, no excess force, only the precise application of energy, enough to make her body freeze with the sharp realization that escape wasn’t just unlikely.

It was impossible.

Every breath she took was shallow, caught in the razor-thin space between instinct and survival. He wasn’t simply restraining her. He was letting her feel the inevitability of his potency, the unshakable fact that he had her exactly where he wanted her.

Her mind scrambled for an escape, for anything she could use against him, but every scenario ended the same way, with him mastering her, bearing her back into the wall, keeping her right where he wanted her.

Panic clawed at the edges of her thoughts, urging her to fight, to throw herself into action before it was too late.

But then, he hesitated.

It was slight. Barely there. But she felt it in the shift of his grip, in the way his head tilted just a fraction, like he had seen a detail that altered everything. A shadow flickered across his face, a moment of uncertainty that made her heart lurch.

Her breath stalled. Had she miscalculated something?

Had she overlooked a crucial detail, some mistake she hadn’t realized she’d made?

Her mind raced through possibilities, but none of them explained why he was hesitating.

What had made him stop? Why wasn’t he finishing whatever he’d come here to do?

His fingers twitched against her throat, as if caught between instinct and recognition. The pressure in his body shifted, not easing, but changing, sharpening into a new kind of tension.

His grip loosened slightly, but not enough to set her free. Not enough to let her breathe properly. Like his body was still warring with the command to hold on, even as his mind was catching up to something he hadn’t expected.

A flicker of doubt passed across his features, confusion, anger, recognition, like a memory surfacing from the depths of his mind and latching onto her face.

It was there for only a moment, but she saw the way his muscles tensed, the way his breathing shifted, slower, more measured, like he was recalibrating everything he thought he knew about this moment.

And then, just as suddenly, his hand yanked away, like his body had caught up to the realization his brain had just reached.