Chapter 60 Something Trying to Fade
Elena's POV
The office was almost completely dark, except for the silver glow of the skyline spilling through the window. The overhead lights were off-Damian hated harsh lighting when he was thinking.
Or when he was pretending not to.
I was leaning against the far edge of his desk, arms folded loosely, eyes fixed on him in that leather chair like he was some unsolvable puzzle.
He wasn't writing. He never was anymore.
He was staring.
Not at me. Not even at the window.
But at his own reflection in it.
"You're doing it again," I said softly, breaking the quiet between us.
He blinked and turned, like he was snapping out of something deep. "Doing what?"
"That thing where you're looking at the world, but you're not in it."
His jaw tightened. He looked away again. "It's nothing."
"No," I said, stepping toward him slow, deliberate. "It's Lazarus."
A pause.
He didn't deny it.
Just a muscle twitch in his cheek. A blink longer than usual.
"You think the lapses are because of Lazarus?" he asked, voice low, thoughtful.
"I know they are."
I wasn't trembling - I was past that. This wasn't fear anymore. It was fury.
"You forget useless things, Damian," I pressed. "Like whether you paid the electrician. Or where you kept your badge. But you don't forget entire nights."
I said it firmly, because it needed to be said.
He swallowed. But he held my stare.
"It's... selective," he admitted. "Like my brain is redacting things in real time. I know they happened. I feel like they happened. But when I try to recall..." His brow knotted deeply. "It's like fog."
A chill sat heavy in my spine.
"What about me?" I asked, voice suddenly quiet. "Is that fog too?"
He hesitated.
God, it hurt.
"You're not gone," he said. "You're just... pieces. Flickers. And I know you're supposed to matter. I feel it. But I can't hold onto it long enough."
Then he looked up at me, and that was when I saw something that shouldn't have been in Damian's eyes.
Fear.
"What if Lazarus is cutting the wrong wires?" he said.
Damian's POV
Her silence hit harder than anything.
She wasn't just standing across from me - she was withdrawing. The space between us felt cold and wide.
And the worst part? I knew I'd hurt her. I just couldn't remember what I'd done, or not done.
"Elena," I said, more urgently than I meant to. "I swear to you, I'm not choosing to forget any of it. My brain-" I stopped. Flexed my hands. "-it's like it's protecting me from something that doesn't make sense."
"A woman who loved you?" she snapped, voice sharp, tremor in it.
My chest tightened.
She turned away, pacing, gripping her arms. "Do you even know how insane this feels? Being erased but not replaced?"
"I'm not replacing you."
"But you're losing me! Doesn't that scare you?"
Her voice cracked on the last word.
I stood. Moved toward her-but stopped just before reaching her. Because I needed her anger. I needed her fire. I needed something to hold onto, something real.
"Elena... I don't want to forget you," I said quietly.
She turned, eyes shining, not with softness but with decision.
"Then don't."
Elena's POV
He blinked.
"I don't know how to stop something I can't see," he said.
That was when the rage dissolved. What came after was worse.
Resolve.
Because now I understood something else: Damian wasn't fighting me.
He was fighting himself.
And Lazarus - the thing he let into his own system in the name of "biostrength" - was winning.
"No more pretending this is temporary," I said, stepping back toward him. Slowly. "No more waiting to see if this fades on its own."
His mouth opened, but I cut him off.
"You don't get to forget me, Damian Cole."
He stared at me - wide-eyed, unmoving, quiet.
"You don't get to forget us."
And I saw the moment the words sank in. The moment the question switched from what if to how far will you go.
I walked closer, until there was nothing left between us but breath.
"I'm going to make sure you remember," I whispered.
His breath caught.
"Elena-"
"No."
I placed my fingers under his jaw. Raised his face. Made sure his eyes were locked on mine.
"You brought Lazarus into this world. And now it's inside you."
I felt my voice darken.
"If anything is going to be rewritten, I'm making sure I'm the one holding the pen."
Silence. Packed. Heavy.
Dangerously alive.
My heartbeat was climbing and I didn't bother to hide it.
Damian lifted his hand - slowly, hesitantly - to my waist.
"Elena..." His voice was almost hoarse. "What are you going to do?"
I leaned in, the heat between us rising again like a recovering flame.
And I smiled. Just once.
"Make you remember me."