The Unseen Truth

The Unseen Truth
POV: Damian
It’s been three days. Three goddamn days since the bullet tore into my hand. I’ve been locked away in my room, refusing her presence. Not because I wanted to be alone—
No.
The truth was far uglier than I wanted to admit. It was because I was angry, and furious by her confession of love which had cut me deeper than any blade.
She confessed her feelings for me as though she meant every word of it. But then she turned it into a fucking lie. Told me it was just a stunt to scare Selene away. And worse — 
The fact that she couldn’t wait for our fake marriage to be over so she’d have her freedom.
Freedom. 
She made it sound like she was in a cage that I trapped her in. And it stung far deeper than I cared to admit — deeper than any wound anyone has ever carved into me.
It doesn’t fucking matter, Damian.
I told myself that her words were just an empty part of the game she played to protect herself. But the truth was eating at me in silence. Because deep down, I knew.
I was falling in love with her. And that thought made my chest tighten with a rage I didn’t want to face. The anger I felt deep down wasn’t just for her but for me.
For the fact that she had Damian’s Cross’s name on her lips and yet dared to toss it aside as if it meant nothing. It was a wound I couldn’t get over easily no matter how much I hated to admit it.
A knock at the door drifted me off my thoughts, my mind snapping halfway out of these different emotions I was feeling. The thought of Isla knocking on the door made my chest clench with rage.
 “Isla, get the hell out!” 
I barked without hesitation, my voice coming out sharper than I intended. There was a pause, before another knock came harder this time.
“Boss, it’s me, Mark,” the voice spoke from the door, low and controlled. Thank God It wasn’t her. Relief and irritation sear through me.
“Come in,” I growled through the door.
I exhaled sharply through my nose from my thoughts which were still tangled and raw. Mark didn’t hesitate as he pushed open the door and stepped inside, his boots echoing on the floor.
He held something in his hand — a tablet.
“Boss,” he said quietly, but there was an urgency in his voice. “You need to see this.”
“What the hell?” I asked, my voice low and dangerous. Mark placed the tablet on the edge of my desk and pressed play without waiting for permission.
The screen lit up immediately to reveal me in my room. The night I’d been unconscious from the bullet wound. And Isla was seated at the bedside close to me. She stood up instantly, her shadow sharp against the faint glow of the bedside lamp.
The camera was enough to capture her every movement—the way her fingers clenched around her phone as though it were a lifeline. 
Her lips moved, but the words were too low to hear clearly as she stared down at me lying there—my chest rising and falling with shallow breaths. 
Her eyes lingered on me for a long moment, and I could almost see her wrestling with something inside her. Then she turned her gaze towards the pillow beside me and picked it up slowly.
The edges of her fingers curled around it, tightening until her knuckles themselves turned white as she hovered it above my face before stopping herself. Her eyes gazed at the pillow, then back at me.
I remember it all clearly now. The pillow fell out of her hands as I opened my eyes and called out her name. Before she covered it up with how worried she was about me.
“She was on a call with someone that night, Boss.” Mark’s voice cut through the tension, glancing up at me. “Someone was telling her to kill you.”
My chest tightened. Fist slammed onto the desk in anger. “Who the fuck is talking to her?” I hissed. My voice caught somewhere between rage and disbelief.
Mark’s eyes were steady as they locked onto mine before he spoke. “I’ll tap her phone and track the location of the caller. And I’ll find him.”
“Do it. Now.” My voice came out as a final command. I couldn’t sit still here and do nothing. I needed to know who was using her to try and kill me.
Mark gave a single nod and left without another word. I was still seated on the bed, staring at the tablet and the image of her—the hesitation, the way she’d dropped the pillow burned in my mind.
Why the hell would she want to kill me?
I stood up immediately. My chair scraped against the floor as I ran a hand through my hair in confusion. The anger wasn’t just there — it was turning into something darker.
Maybe she knew something and this wasn’t about Selene or whatever power game was being played here. Before I could think, I stormed out of my room. My boots echo against the floor.
“Isla!”
I yelled, the sound of my voice echoing like a warning as I reached for her door and banged my fist against it.
“Isla! Open the fucking door!”
My voice was low but sharp, a blade cutting through the silence of the house. There was no answer. I banged again, harder this time. 
 “Isla!”
The sound of my own voice made my chest ache. I could feel the rage boiling up in my veins, but underneath it—there was something worse I didn’t want to name.
I kicked the door open without a second thought and stormed inside. No sound came from inside because she’s supposed to be screaming in fear by now and would have opened the door.
I stepped back, my chest rising and falling in heavy gaps. This wasn’t like her…., Isla would never hide from me. At least not like this.
Where the hell is she?