I stagger back.
He catches my wrist before I fall.
Pulls me toward him like he’s reeling in prey.
“I didn’t know then,” he breathes against my ear. “But I saw them. Every night. Crawling through that cracked window. Right before I sawhim.”
I freeze.
The world spins.
“You saw… who?”
He doesn’t answer.
Not exactly.
He lets go of my wrist and steps back, dragging his hands down his face like he’s trying to erase it all.
“You’re not the only one who was watched.”
My stomach flips.
“Was it the priest?”
Another silence.
Then he shakes his head. Just once.
“No. But it was someone who knewhim. Someone who watchedmelike I was the prize. Like you were just the excuse.”
My throat dries.
My knees weaken.
And suddenly, I realise?—
This isn’t just my story anymore.
It never was.
We were both being played.
And the game started long before either of us knew the rules.
My hand is still shaking when I lift the phone.
Not because I’m scared of him.
Because I’m scared of the answer.
“I got a message,” I say. My voice doesn’t sound like mine anymore. It’s flatter. Colder. Like something inside me has already decided it doesn’t believe him.
Damien stops pacing.
Slowly turns.
“What message.”
