Chapter 35
Alicia
I didn’t sleep that night. The red glow of the clock kept flashing in the dark, the minutes crawling past while I lay awake staring at the ceiling. Damon still hadn’t come back. The house was too quiet, the kind of silence that presses against your chest and won’t let you breathe right.
When the front door finally opened downstairs, I almost jumped out of bed.
“Damon?” I called, my voice small in the dark.
No answer. Just heavy footsteps, slow and deliberate.
I threw the blanket aside and padded to the top of the stairs. “Damon, is that you?”
“It’s me,” he said, his voice rough.
Relief hit me so fast it hurt, but it lasted only a second. There was something off in his tone. I ran down the stairs, barefoot, my heart thudding.
He was standing in the foyer, coat still on, dirt smeared across his sleeves. His knuckles were raw, a thin line of dried blood on his cheek.
“God,” I breathed. “You’re hurt again.”
He didn’t answer, just brushed past me toward his office.
“Damon, talk to me,” I said, catching his arm. His skin was ice cold. “What happened?”
“Later,” he muttered.
“That’s what you said last time.”
He stopped, eyes flicking to mine. For a moment, I thought he’d tell me everything. Then Marcus came through the doorway, holding a small silver flash drive.
He gave me a nod. “Ma’am.”
I frowned. “What is that?”
Damon’s voice came out flat. “Something from Nathan.”
My stomach turned. “Nathan’s dead.”
Damon looked at me for a long second before walking into his office. “Not anymore.”
He closed the door.
I waited for what felt like hours, sitting on the stairs, listening to the hum of the house. I could hear faint sounds from the office...typing, the creak of his chair, silence again. When I couldn’t take it anymore, I pushed the door open.
He was sitting at his desk, eyes fixed on the laptop screen. The glow made him look pale, almost haunted.
“Damon,” I said softly, “please tell me what’s going on.”
“Go back to bed, Alicia.”
“No,” I said, walking in. “You disappear for hours, come back like this, and expect me to just sleep? I’m not doing that again.”
His hands tightened on the desk. “It’s not something you want to know.”
“I’ll decide that.”
He turned the laptop toward me. On the screen was a paused video. Damon...tied to a chair, blood on his shirt.
I froze. “What is this?”
He didn’t answer. He hit play.
The man on the screen lifted his head weakly and said, “It was never supposed to be her.”
The clip ended.
I took a step back. “Damon, what did you do?”
He ran a hand through his hair, jaw clenched. “I don’t know anymore.”
“That’s not an answer.”
He stood, pacing, then hit the wall with his fist hard enough to rattle the frames. “I thought I buried him.”
“Who?”
“Nathan.”
My breath caught. “You went back to that grave? The one you told me about?”
He nodded once. “It was empty.”
Empty. The word echoed in my head. “That’s not possible.”
He looked at me with tired eyes. “I saw it myself. Someone dug him up or he never stayed dead.”
A chill ran down my spine. “So what does he want?”
He hesitated before speaking. “He said I don’t know who you are.”
I blinked. “What?”
“He left that message for me. Said you’re not who I think you are.”
For a second, I couldn’t even speak. Then I laughed, too sharp to sound real. “And you believe him?”
“I don’t know what to believe.”
I felt something twist inside me. “You think I’ve been lying to you?”
“No,” he said quickly, but there was doubt in his voice.
“Say it like you mean it,” I whispered.
He didn’t.
I turned away, my throat burning. “Unbelievable. After everything we’ve been through.”
“Alicia, listen...”
“No,” I said. “You come home bleeding and broken, and instead of letting me help you, you treat me like a suspect.”
He rubbed his forehead. “I’m just trying to keep you safe.”
“By accusing me?”
“By finding out what’s true,” he said quietly.
“Then ask me.” My voice cracked. “Who was she? The woman in that video you mentioned, the one you said wasn’t supposed to die. Who was she?”
He was silent for a long time before answering. “Her name was Elise. Nathan’s wife.”
My pulse stumbled. “And you…?”
“She wasn’t supposed to die that night,” he said. “But she did. Nathan blamed me.”
I stared at him. “You killed his wife?”
“I didn’t mean to,” he said. “It was an accident. Everything went wrong.”
I pressed a hand to my mouth. “And now he’s back? And what's worse, in your fucking team!”
“I don’t know how, but yes. And he’s using you to get to me.”
I shook my head, stepping back. “No. He’s twisting things. You can’t let him.”
He looked at me with that haunted expression again. “He said you’re part of this.”
“Do you hear yourself? He’s manipulating you.”
He didn’t answer.
The silence broke something in me. “You’re really looking at me like you don’t know me,” I said quietly.
He exhaled hard, closing his eyes. “I do know you.”
“Then prove it. Open the rest of the files. If you really think he’s lying, find out.”
He looked up. “You want me to?”
“Yes,” I said. “Because if you don’t, he’s already won.”
He slid the chair back and clicked the next video.
Another dark room appeared on the screen. Damon was there again, tied up. But this time there was another figure, someone behind the camera. Then a voice filled the room. My voice.
“Damon,” the recording said. “You have to trust me. This is the only way.”
My stomach dropped. “That’s not me,” I whispered.
Damon stared at the screen, then at me. “It’s your voice.”
“It’s not,” I said, my hands trembling. “He’s editing it.”
Marcus, standing near the door, muttered, “That’s some creepy tech.”
Damon didn’t move. His eyes stayed on me. “Did you see any recording of any kind on the night Nathan kidnapped you?”
The question hit like a punch. “You can’t be serious.”
“Did you?” he asked again.
“No,” I said, heat rising in my chest. “You know that. I told you everything.”
He didn’t speak.
“Damon,” I whispered, “you’re scaring me.”
He shut the laptop and leaned back in the chair, staring at the dark screen. “I just need to know what’s real.”
Before I could respond, there was a sound outside. Three slow knocks at the front door.
Marcus straightened instantly, hand on his gun.
Damon’s head turned toward the sound. “Stay here.”
“Don’t open it,” I said, gripping his arm.
The knock came again, louder this time.
Marcus moved toward the door. Damon raised a hand to stop him. The air in the room felt heavy, like the whole house was holding its breath.
Then a voice came from the other side of the door. Calm, low, familiar.
“Alicia,” it said. “It’s me.”
My blood went cold because the voice wasn’t Damon’s.
It was mine.