Chapter 70 Lila's Doubt
The police station smelled like stale coffee and disinfectant, an odor that clung to the back of Lila’s throat as she pushed through the heavy glass doors. The building felt colder than she remembered, sharp fluorescent lights humming overhead like they were judging her.
She shouldn’t be here. At least, that’s what every rational part of her whispered.
But Damian was inside.And every rumor about him, every accusation circling campus had carved its way into her chest until she could hardly breathe.
He didn’t do it. And she knows he didn’t.
Lila clutched the strap of her bag and stepped up to the reception desk.
Before she could speak, a voice floated from the hallway.
“Well,” Detective Mara said, arms crossed as she approached, “this is unexpected.”
Lila swallowed. Mara’s expression wasn’t harsh, just a tired look. Bruised under the eyes, hair pulled back messily, as though she hadn’t slept since Tessa’s body was found.
The detective stopped two feet away, gaze steady.
“What are you doing here, Lila?”
Lila forced her chin up. She couldn’t look shaken. She couldn’t look unsure.
“I’m here to see a friend. A friend who’s being held unjustly.”
Mara blinked slowly before a short, humorless laugh escaped her.
“Unjustly,” she echoed, folding her arms tighter. “You do realize the friend you’re defending was the last known person to argue with the victim?”
Lila held her ground. “He didn’t kill Tessa.”
“You sound very certain.”
“I am certain.”
Mara sighed and motioned toward a side corridor.
“Walk with me.”
Lila followed reluctantly. Their footsteps echoed through the empty hall. Mara didn’t look back at her, only spoke when they passed the dimly lit interrogation rooms.
“Damian Reyes,” Mara began, “had an argument with the victim and he was caught before he pinned in on someone who is innocent.”
Lila frowned. “What do you mean?”
“Damian was Professor Beckett’s favorite student.” Mara’s voice slipped lower. “Brilliant kid. Then Beckett caught him cheating. Some big project or paper. Who knows. Beckett’s a strict disciplinarian, he showed no mercy. He made sure Damian failed the course. He humiliated the star athlete.”
Lila stopped walking.
That didn’t sound like Damian at all.
Mara continued, misreading her silence. “After that, Damian spiraled. Suddenly girls start showing up dead? Strangled? Roses everywhere? Beckett's properties are found at the crime scene.” She shrugged. “Looks like a boy with a personal vendetta and a flair for drama.”
Lila felt heat rising behind her eyes, not anger exactly, but disbelief.
“That doesn’t make sense,” she said quietly. “Damian was at the party. I was with him. He didn’t leave after Tessa did. He didn’t even notice she walked out, he was too busy celebrating with his teammates and friends.”
Mara raised a brow. “Interesting choice of defense.”
“I’m telling the truth,” Lila insisted. “If he wanted to hurt someone, he would’ve had to disappear for at least thirty minutes. I would’ve seen him go.”
Mara studied her a long moment, expression unreadable.
Finally, she exhaled through her nose, defeated.
“Fine,” she said. “You can see him. Five minutes. Don’t touch anything, don’t try to pass him any messages or objects, and if he says anything that sounds like a confession, you tell me. Understood?”
Lila nodded.
Mara unlocked a door at the end of the corridor and guided her inside.
Damian sat alone.
In a stark, white interrogation room with no windows, a metal table bolted to the floor, a single chair on each side.
His hands were cuffed loosely in front of him, but he wasn’t slumped or shaking. He sat upright, posture steady. He was calm.
But his eyes. His eyes weren’t calm at all.
They were cold. Guarded. Hollowed by something she had never seen in him.
When he lifted his gaze and saw her, however, something broke through the mask. A small, fragile warmth.
“Lila.”
Her heart clenched. She stepped toward him, and the officer standing at the door stiffened, ready to intervene.
“It’s okay,” Damian said to the officer. “She’s not here to cause trouble.”
Lila sat across from him, swallowing the lump in her throat as she took in his appearance. He looked pale. Exhausted. His dark hair slightly disheveled as if he’d run his hand through it too many times. His wrists were red where the metal had rubbed against his skin.
“Damian,” she whispered. “They shouldn’t have arrested you.”
“They had to arrest someone.” His voice was flat. Controlled. “And I’m the easy answer.”
Lila leaned in slightly. “Did you tell them where you were that night?”
He tilted his head, a faint, bitter smile pulling at his lips.
“They don’t care where I was. They care how the story looks.”
Lila’s chest tightened. “This isn’t fair.”
“Fair,” Damian echoed, letting out a breathy laugh. “Nothing about this has been fair.”
His eyes darkened. “They’re pinning this on me to protect the real killer.”
She held her breath.
Damian’s jaw tightened, and for the first time, she saw fear flicker in his eyes. Not fear of the police. Not fear of being caught.
Fear of something or someone else.
“Damian,” she whispered, “Detective Mara told me you and Professor Beckett had a falling-out. That you cheated, and he failed you ”
Damian’s laugh cut her off. Sharp and heavy with disbelief.
“Beckett failed me?” he repeated. “Is that what she said?”
“She made it sound like.”
“Lila,” Damian leaned forward as far as the cuffs allowed, “I would never cheat. And Beckett would never accuse me of it. He’s not that kind of man.”
“But she said.”
“She’s lying,” he said calmly. “Or she’s repeating something someone wants her to believe.”
Lila’s mind spun.
“Then what’s the truth?” she asked.
Damian exhaled slowly, eyes softening.
“Beckett was a friend of my dad’s,” he said. “He’s known me since I was twelve. He helped me get into the university. He wrote half of my recommendation letters. He’s someone I look up to.”
Lila blinked, stunned.
Damian continued, voice quieter.
“If anything, he always pushed me too hard. Encouraged me too much. But hurt me? Fail me intentionally? No. Never.” He shook his head. “He’s not the killer, Lila. And he’s not trying to frame me.”
Her breath stilled.
“Are you sure?” she whispered.
His gaze locked onto hers, unwavering.
“I’m sure. Beckett is the youngest professor on campus. People envy him.” Damian leaned back slightly. “When someone stands out too much academically, socially they become an easy target. Jealousy makes people do stupid things.”
Lila thought of Mara’s earlier words. Of the rumors swirling about campus. Of the colleagues who might resent Beckett’s rise.
Damian watched her expression carefully.
“Lila,” he said softly, “someone out there is controlling the story. They want to hurt people connected to Beckett. People with red hair. People close to him.”
Her skin prickled.
“And now,” Damian whispered, bitterness slipping into his tone, “they’ve found the perfect scapegoat in me.”
A cold weight pressed into her ribs.
“But why would someone frame you?” she asked.
Damian exhaled heavily, letting his shoulders slump for the first time since she entered.
“Because I’m loud. I’m social. I get attention. It’s easy to twist someone like that into a villain.” His voice dropped. “And I’m young enough to ruin without consequence.”
Lila looked down at his reddened wrists. Her stomach tightened painfully.
He leaned forward again, voice low.
“Lila, listen to me.”
She met his eyes.
“The killer is still out there. And whoever it is, they're close. Too close to hurting you.”
Her heart thudded against her ribs.
“Please,” he said urgently, “be careful.”
She nodded, throat too tight to speak.
“Do you believe me?” he asked softly.
Lila hesitated only for a heartbeat.
“Yes,” she whispered. “I believe you.”
Something flickered across Damian’s face, relief, sadness, gratitude, she couldn’t tell. His expression softened in a way that made her chest ache.
The officer at the door cleared his throat. “Time’s up.”
Damian didn’t move as she stood. He watched her like he was memorizing her face, one detail at a time.
“Lila,” he said, voice cracking for the first time, “don’t walk alone. Not anywhere. Not even on campus.”
She nodded.
“And stay away from the woods. And from the bleachers. And..”
“Damian,” she said gently, “I’ll be careful.”
His jaw clenched hard.
“Not careful enough,” he murmured.
The officer led her out. She glanced back once.
Damian was still staring at her with cold cuffs around his wrists, pale face under fluorescent light but his eyes.
His eyes were warm and terrified.
As Lila stepped into the hallway, Detective Mara met her with a raised brow.
“Well?” Mara asked. “Did he give you anything useful?”
Before Lila could answer, before she could even breathe.
Her phone buzzed with a text.
“You're next, my red darling.”