Something flickers across Damien’s face. A twitch at the corner of his mouth, a momentary tightening around his eyes.
“Damien.” I step closer and he angles away, jaw muscles bunching beneath his skin. “What aren’t you telling me?”
“Nothing.” His voice is tight. “It doesn’t matter.”
“The fuck it doesn’t! He’s going to kick me out.”
“And I already said I’d pay for a flat. One we can share. I’ll help you move—”
I slam my palms against his chest, driving my weight forward. He doesn’t budge. “Tell me how Bryan knew, or I swear to God…”
His neck cords, eyes darting away for a fraction of a second. A muscle jumps in his temple.
“There’s a camera.” His words tumble out, rushed and defensive. “Not anything I installed, but… he might’ve seen me on the camera in your room.”
The world tilts sideways. Sound muffles, then rushes back too loud.
“What camera?” My tongue is thick, clumsy. A cold sweat breaks out across my skin, prickling like ice needles.
“It’s hidden in the ceiling corner above your door.” His eyes fix on a point beyond my shoulder. “Pointed at your bed.”
Biles surges up my throat, sour and burning. “There’s a camera in my room.”
“Yes.”
“Watching me.”
“Yes.”
Images cascade through my mind. Nights changing for bed. Mornings dropping my wet towel on the floor. Moments I believed were private. All exposed.
“How long have you known?” My voice sounds disconnected.
“Ophelia…”
I shove him again, harder. “How long?”
He exhales, heavy with resignation. “A few weeks.”
The betrayal doubles me over, a sucker punch. Weeks. He’s known for weeks and never said a word.
“After you crashed my support group,” I say haltingly, pieces clicking into place with sickening clarity. “That Friday. You got a text during music class, from your friend…”Left evidence at a crime scene, but a mate just fixed it for me…
His silence confirms everything.
“You broke into my house and stole my pills.” Laughter bubbles up, shrill and jagged. “That’s what the text was about, wasn’t it? The evidence he fixed was you being caught on camera.”
“It’s an old model. My contact, he—we—thought it must be from a previous tenant.” The excuse hangs limply in the air. “Some creep who lived there before. I didn’t think—”
“You didn’t think?” Fury blazes through my veins, hot and bright and cleansing. “You knew there was a camera in my room, watching me, and you didn’t think you should warn me I might be in danger?”
“It wasn’t like that.”
“Then what was it like, Damien?” I move closer, skin baking in his body heat. “Tell me what it was like. Did you watch me yourself? Use the feed to plan when to show up? To see what I was wearing before you broke in and…”
The words die on my tongue.
Of course he watched. He’s an opportunist.
