I turned to Damien, searching for balance, but found the reflection of my own fear mirrored back at me.
Still his arms slid around me, a hand brushing down my hair.
“It’ll be okay,” he promised, the shake in the words betraying the confidence he tried to project.
“It’s an unfortunate turn of events,” a familiar voice drawled.
The scene cut to a press scrum. Reporters shouting. Cameras flashing. Nathan stood at the center soaking up the attention.
“What will Falkirk do now?” a reporter demanded.
Nathan heaved a practiced sigh. “We’re still assessing the situation with Elion,” he answered, tilting his head with manufactured regret. “But given what’s come to light…”
A beat.
A careful shake of the head.
“Motherfucker,” Damien growled under his breath, the words vibrating with quiet fury.
The dam broke.
Faces flashed across my mind: Jennifer’s tired smile. David pacing during calls. Kevin’s neglected cactus. Sarah’s sticky notes curling at the edges of my monitor.
All of them depending on me.
And now… all of them about to be swallowed by a storm with my name stamped across the header.
The edges of the room faded, shame flooding up my spine like smoke.
Sound turned muffled—distant.
“Emma,” Damien tried. “Stay with me.”
But the ground shifted again—old ghosts slipped from the corners of my mind.
You failed—
“We’re going to get through this,” he murmured, placing a kiss to the top of my head. “Everything will be fine.”
Fine.
Fine—except nothing was.
A dull ache tightened behind my eyes. More voices pressed in.You ruined everything. They’ll blame you. This is on you.
I pressed my palms to my ears, trying—desperate—to silence them before they pulled me under.
But the world kept shrinking.
The TV cut back—Elion’s numbers, my name, Nathan’s face—and something inside me split clean down a worn line.
Sound blurred.
Light sharpened.
Air scattered.
“Emma.” Damien’s plea broke through the static once more, low, urgent. “Look at me.”
