Genevieve’s POVI staggered, my body aching from the blow she’d delivered, pain ricocheting through my shoulder like a live wire. A wave of dizziness washed over me, blurring the edges of my vision.I was still standing—barely—but the world tilted with every blink. My dagger had skidded across the platform, too far to reach without crawling. And I wasn’t about to crawl.What the hell just happened?I stared at the figure across from me, as I was swaying slightly, my pulse pounding in my ears. She was supposed to be dying. Bleeding. Gasping for her last breath. Not standing tall as if I hadn’t pushed a knife into her chest. She reached up and wiped her face with the back of her sleeve, smearing away grime and dirt in one swipe. Then she tugged off the cap, and a mess of hair fell loose around her shoulders. The filthy jacket came off next, followed by a strange-looking vest—thick, crudely stitched, and marked with shallow slashes.My stomach turned.“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I mu
Genevieve’s POV“Creepy, dark, and abandoned,” I muttered, stepping onto the crumbling platform of the train station ruins. “Just perfect for my plan.” I clutched my coat tighter around me, the chill seeping through the fabric.Just then, a movement caught my eye. At the far end of the platform stood a woman in a cleaner's uniform, her posture hunched, face obscured by a tattered cap. Grease and grime stained her clothes, and her hands were hidden in oversized gloves.I approached cautiously, stopping a few feet away. Jordan is a woman? A small smile formed on my lips. Good. I could take this female janitor easily. The stench hit me before I could say a word, though. I instinctively took a half-step back, wrinkling my nose. That was when she looked up, and our eyes met. “Are you Jordan?” I asked in a clipped voice. She nodded slowly, head tilting. “And you’re… AnonymousUser413?”I offered a hesitant smile. “Yeah… I was at the orphanage a long time ago. I heard about the fire and—
Damien’s POVI didn’t look at her.Couldn’t.My hands were still trembling from what I’d just seen. My throat burned from the breath I hadn’t released. And then came the soft thud of her footsteps in the hall—her presence drawing closer, and with it, the unbearable weight of everything I’d destroyed.“Damien?” Her voice rang out from behind me, casual, unaware. “I forgot my sketchbook. I just—”I turned too quickly, nearly knocking over the chair. “I was just leaving,” I blurted.Her brows drew together. “What?”“I have something to do,” I added, stepping past her before I could give myself time to think. “Important. Time-sensitive. I—I’ll call you.”She stared at me, looking quite bewildered. “You look pale. Are you okay?”No. God, no.But I nodded anyway. “I’m fine.”Her hand twitched, like she was debating whether or not to reach out. “Is this about earlier?”I stopped at the door.If I told her now—if I showed her the video, the truth—would she even believe me? Would it matter? Or
Damien’s POVThe video was already paused in the first frame. My fingers hovered above the keyboard, hesitant.I didn’t want to see it again. But I had to. I needed answers. Just the plain truth.With a deep breath, I pressed play.There it was.My gut twisted the moment I saw her. Celeste. Or the woman who looked exactly like her.Her laugh. Her hair. The angle of her jaw. Even the way she tilted her head when the man whispered something into her ear. It was identical. Painfully identical.And then the kiss. I forced myself not to look away. Not this time.God, it hurt. The same way it had hurt the first time I saw it—like someone had grabbed my lungs and wrung them dry. Especially when they began to touch each other. But I tried to keep my attention on just the woman. Her hair and skin, or at least all the exposed parts in the video. And the way she moved. Shaw had been right. I couldn’t go off instinct. Couldn’t keep believing what I wanted to believe. Maybe there’s something we’
Celeste’s POV“Is that… it?”His voice was low, almost uncertain.I turned slowly, following Damien’s gaze across the room. He was staring at the sideboard—at a small, carved wooden music box. The lacquer was slightly chipped at the edge, the surface dulled by time. It was the one he’d given me on our first anniversary.Handmade. Imported from Prague. He said it reminded him of me—intricate, difficult to understand, but full of hidden music.I knew exactly what I was doing when I took it.That night—our second anniversary—he’d humiliated me in front of everyone. Shattered every illusion I had left.I took the music box from his home on purpose. Not out of sentiment. Out of spite. A scar disguised as a keepsake.It doesn’t even work anymore. The gears jammed, the melody broken. Just like what we were.I stared at it now, my heart tightening.“You’re overthinking it,” I said flatly. “This has nothing to do with you anymore. I let you stay here tonight only because of what’s coming. Don’
Celeste’s POVThe message was short.[AnonymousUser413: Tomorrow. 11 a.m. Just like we agreed. Come alone. No tricks. No surprises.]I stared at it for a long moment, then typed a brief reply.[Understood.]When I turned around, Damien was still standing there, his jaw clenched with tension, eyes watching me like I was a grenade about to go off.The fight we’d been having just seconds before hung in the air like smoke. But it was over now. Not because anything had been resolved, but because I didn’t have the strength to keep throwing punches at someone who would never understand the depth of what he broke."You should go," I said quietly.His expression tightened. "Celeste—""Please," I added, more firmly this time.There was something in my tone that made him stop arguing. Just like that, he nodded once. Reluctantly. But he nodded."I’ll keep someone watching the building," he said. "Just in case."I didn’t answer.I didn't have it in me to argue anymore.I simply turned back toward