Chapter 68: Opening
Chapter 68: Opening
Ariel POV
The words on my phone wouldn’t stop burning.
Your mother is dead.
I couldn’t breathe. It felt like someone had reached straight into my chest and squeezed my heart with cold fingers. Not a dramatic choke, not a scream—just this quiet collapse inside me like a chair folding under its own weight.
My mother.
Dead.
Again.
Or… for the first time?
Because the last thing I’d been told—by the man who claimed to be my father—was that she wasn’t dead. That she was hiding. That she was alive. That she was out there somewhere watching me, waiting for some impossible moment when she could step out of the shadows and say, I’m here, baby.
And now this.
A text message so calm, so cruel, so simple.
Like a funeral notice sent by a stranger.
I didn’t even realize my hands were shaking until Damien pried the phone from my fingers.
“Ariel,” he said quietly. “…don’t look at this right now.”
But how could I not?
My entire life twisted around that one question—where is my mother? And now someone who wasn’t even supposed to be here answered it with a five-word sentence that felt like a punch.
“I—” My voice broke. I swallowed. “Damien… what if it’s true?”
His jaw tightened. Hard. Dangerous.
“That message did not come from someone who cares,” he muttered. “It came from someone who wants to control you.”
Control.
The word made my stomach clench.
The door rattled again, reminding me we had more than grief in this room.
We had danger.
“Talia,” Marcus said, stepping back, gun raised but steady. “Her breathing just changed again. Something’s trying to push through her.”
I froze.
Damien turned slightly, blocking me with one arm without even thinking about it.
“Talia?” I whispered toward the door.
“Ari…” she said—except it wasn’t just her.
The second voice was still there.
Low. Male.
Curling under her words like a shadow sliding beneath a door.
“Ariel… open the door.”
My skin crawled.
Damien leaned close enough for his shoulder to brush mine. “Stay behind me. Don’t move unless I tell you.”
I nodded, even though every instinct screamed to run, to hide, to do something—anything—other than face the door that kept shaking like someone was knocking on the edge of my life.
Marcus stepped sideways, eyes narrowing. “Sir… the presence outside is weakening. Like it’s stretching itself thin.”
Damien’s expression hardened. “Good. The moment it blinks, we take back control.”
Another soft knock followed—so gentle it made my entire spine tense.
Talia’s voice wobbled. “Ari… please. Let me in. I’m cold.”
Cold.
Talia never got cold. She complained when it was 29 degrees outside that the AC needed fixing because she was “literally melting.” This wasn’t her. Not even close.
“Damien,” I whispered, “she’s innocent. She didn’t ask for this.”
“I know,” he said softly, without turning around. “And that’s why we get her out of it.”
Something inside my chest twisted. Guilt. Fear. And something else.
A spark.
Magic hummed under my skin again, restless, like a trapped animal pacing. The air around my fingers shimmered faintly, but I curled my hands into fists before it could grow.
Damien noticed anyway. He always noticed.
“Hey,” he murmured, voice grounding. “Not here. Not yet. Keep your focus on me.”
His voice was warm, steady, cutting through panic like a knife through rope. I clung to it.
“Okay,” I whispered.
But then—
A sound cut through everything.
A soft gasp.
Talia’s.
Raw. Real. Human.
“A—Ariel…” she whispered, and for the first time, there was no second voice beneath hers. Just her.
Marcus froze. “Sir—that’s her. That’s actually her.”
Before we could react—
The lock clicked.
By itself.
A single, soft, mechanical sound that made the whole room snap to attention.
Damien’s hand shot to his side, claws just under the skin.
“Ariel,” he said quietly, “stand behind the couch.”
I obeyed without arguing.
Marcus positioned himself by the hinge, gun steady, jaw locked.
The door creaked inward slowly—
And Talia collapsed straight into Damien’s arms like a puppet whose strings had been cut.
My breath caught. “Talia!”
I ran forward, dropping to my knees beside her as Damien lowered her gently. Her skin was so pale it almost glowed blue under the lights.
“She’s alive,” Damien said quickly, checking her pulse. “Weak. But alive.”
Her eyelashes fluttered weakly, like she was fighting through sleep.
“Move her to the couch,” Marcus said, already sweeping the hallway with his weapon.
Damien scooped her up effortlessly and carried her inside. I scrambled after them, heart slamming against my ribs.
“Talia,” I whispered, brushing hair off her forehead. “I’m so sorry. I’m so—”
“Ariel,” Damien said sharply.
I looked up.
Marcus was standing in the doorway, staring at the hall wall.
His face—usually impossible to rattle—looked shaken.
“What is it?” Damien demanded, standing beside him.
Marcus swallowed.
Then he stepped aside just enough for me to see it.
Written across the hallway wall in ragged, smudged lines of black ash—
YOU CAN’T HIDE MY BLOOD.
My stomach dropped so hard I felt dizzy.
The words were still smoldering.
Fresh.
Like someone had burned them into the wall seconds ago.
Damien exhaled slowly, jaw clenching hard enough to crack stone.
“This,” he said, voice like a storm gathering, “is not Ethan.”
I didn’t need him to explain.
Because deep inside me, something old and twisted and familiar whispered: "He’s here."