Chapter 40: “The Ghost Named Loren”

Scarlett’s POV

The next morning, I didn’t recognize my own reflection.

My eyes were swollen, my lips cracked, and my face pale like I’d been drained of everything human. The woman staring back at me wasn’t the same Scarlett who used to smile at Damien across late-night dinners or fight beside him in alleyways thick with smoke.

That Scarlett had believed in him.

This one was hollowed out by the truth.

Loren.

The name still rang through my head like a curse.

I splashed cold water on my face, but it didn’t help. Nothing did. Because the man I’d fallen for, the man who’d saved me, touched me, lied to me wasn’t even real.

I slammed my palms against the sink, my chest heaving. I wanted to scream, to break something, but what good would it do? He’d already broken the only thing that mattered me.

A sharp knock echoed through the door.

I stiffened, every muscle tensing. “Who is it?”

“It’s Eli,” came the quiet voice of one of my informants. “You said to let you know if he made contact again.”

My breath hitched. “Damien?”

“Yeah. Or… whatever his name is. He was seen at the docks an hour ago. Talking to someone, a woman, short hair, looked military.”

My stomach dropped. The same woman from the alley?

I wiped my face, grabbed my jacket, and headed for the door. “Stay here,” I told Eli. “And don’t tell anyone where I’m going.”

He frowned. “Scarlett, maybe you should—”

“Don’t,” I said sharply. “I need to do this alone.”

The truth was a wound, and I couldn’t let anyone else see it bleed.

The docks were empty when I got there at least, they looked that way. Crates stacked high blocked most of the view, the air thick with salt and engine fumes. The sound of waves slapping against metal hulls filled the silence.

I moved carefully, my boots light on the slick concrete. The morning fog rolled in thick around me, and I caught the faint echo of voices.

“…you can’t keep delaying this,” the woman said.

“I’m not delaying anything,” Damien—Loren—answered.

I pressed myself against a shipping container, heart pounding.

“You think she’ll forgive you when she finds out the rest?” The woman’s tone was sharp, almost mocking. “You’re underestimating her.”

“She doesn’t need to know,” Damien said quietly.

I bit my lip so hard I tasted blood. Doesn’t need to know what?

“She already knows your name, doesn’t she? That didn’t go over well, I assume.”

He sighed, his voice rough with exhaustion. “You don’t know her.”

“Oh, but I do,” the woman said. “She’s just like her mother. Stubborn, reckless, and incapable of staying away from what will destroy her.”

My heart stopped. Her mother.

What did Maria have to do with this?

Before I could move, the woman continued, “You think you’re protecting her, Loren, but all you’re doing is repeating history. The same mistakes. The same blood.”

Something slammed inside me like a door unhinged.

The same blood.

I couldn’t breathe.

Damien stepped closer to her. “Enough. You said what you came to say.”

“Not yet.” The woman’s voice softened suddenly. “I warned your father about getting involved with her mother. I’m warning you now to walk away before it’s too late.”

My body went cold.

Their fathers. Our mothers.

Connected.

The world spun as the truth began to take shape in the fog.

Maria—my mother had a lover before she married my father. A man powerful enough to leave behind a trail of whispers and blood. Could it have been his father?

Damien turned abruptly, and I barely managed to duck behind the crates as his gaze swept the dock. My pulse thundered in my ears. I waited until their voices faded before slipping away.

I didn’t go home. I couldn’t.

I went somewhere else somewhere darker.

The archives were buried beneath the old government building, forgotten by everyone except those who still owed me favors. The smell of dust and paper filled the narrow halls as I descended the stairs.

I knew what I was looking for: the old registry of military contracts. My father’s company had done work for them before he died, and I remembered overhearing his arguments with Maria late at night.

He’d said something about a name he couldn’t erase.

I found the files in a locked cabinet labeled Project Seraphine.

My fingers shook as I pulled the drawer open. The first few pages were redacted black bars covering almost everything but one name still stood out beneath the ink.

Colonel Loren Voss.

My throat closed.

The next file listed Maria Stone under civilian contacts.

And there at the bottom of the page was a child’s name written in a margin, almost as if someone had added it later.

Damien Voss.

The room tilted. I grabbed the edge of the desk to steady myself, the papers trembling in my hands.

He wasn’t just connected to my mother’s past, he was her past.

Maria had been involved with his father. That made Damien’s presence in my life more than coincidence. It was a pattern repeating itself, a curse resurrected.

A sob tore from my throat before I could stop it.

He’d known. He must have known. That was why he wanted to protect me, why he pushed me away and pulled me close all at once.

Because we were living inside the same story our parents had started.

I stumbled back from the desk, the files slipping from my hands, scattering like ashes on the floor.

By the time I reached home, the sun had already set. The house felt too quiet, too still. Maria was sitting by the window, her hand wrapped around a glass of wine, her expression unreadable.

“Where were you?” she asked softly without turning.

“Finding answers,” I said.

Her fingers tightened on the glass. “And what did you find?”

I hesitated, then dropped the name like a knife. “Loren Voss.”

The glass shattered in her hand.

I stared, wide-eyed, as crimson wine dripped down her wrist—only it wasn’t all wine. “Mom?”

She looked up, her face pale, her eyes wide with something between shock and guilt. “Who told you that name?”

“I found it,” I said, my voice trembling. “In the archives. Along with yours. And his. Damien’s.”

Her lips parted, but no sound came out. For the first time in my life, my mother looked truly afraid.

I took a step closer. “You knew him, didn’t you? His father.”

Maria closed her eyes, pain flickering across her face. “It was a long time ago, Scarlett. You don’t understand—”

“Then make me understand!” I snapped. “Because right now, I’m starting to think everyone I’ve ever loved has been lying to me.”

She pressed her bloody hand against her forehead, whispering, “He wasn’t supposed to come back. I thought that line died with him.”

My stomach turned. “What line?”

Maria met my gaze then, her eyes filled with something like sorrow. “The Voss line. The family your father tried to erase.”

I froze. “Erase?”

“Colonel Loren Voss wasn’t just my lover,” she said. “He was your father’s enemy. And Damien he’s his son.”

The air left my lungs in a rush. I staggered back, gripping the wall.

Enemy. Lover. Blood.

Everything spun into chaos.

“You’re saying… Damien’s father was the man you loved before Dad?”

“Yes.” Her voice cracked. “And your father never forgave me for it. He destroyed every trace of the Voss family he could find. I thought… I thought that was the end of it.”

I laughed at the broken, bitter sound. “Guess not.”

Maria stood, her hand shaking as she reached for me. “Scarlett, you have to be careful. If Damien knows who you are—”

“Oh, he knows,” I cut in, my voice sharp as glass. “He just didn’t think I’d find out.”

She looked horrified. “You have to stay away from him. That bloodline brings nothing but ruin. I should’ve told you years ago.”

I met her gaze, anger and heartbreak burning through me in equal measure. “Yeah, you should have.”

I turned toward the door.

“Scarlett—wait!”

But I didn’t stop.

I walked out into the night, the air heavy with the scent of rain and salt, my pulse pounding in my ears.

Damien had lied. My mother had lied.

And now, the only thing left between us was the truth neither of them wanted to face.

Our parents had started this war.

But I was going to end it.

Even if it broke me.