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The bridge
Last Updated:
2025-08-23 02:20:39
Latest chapter
Crossed Lines Chapter 95: The shape of stillness (The End)
POV: DamonThe city had gone soft outside, rain against the glass, the kind that whispered rather than fell.He’d opened the terrace doors just enough for the scent of it to drift in, cool and clean. The penthouse lights were dim, a single lamp spilling amber over the table where dinner waited, long forgotten between two people relearning how to breathe in the same space.Elara sat opposite him, knees drawn up in one of his oversized shirts — hers now, if he was honest. She’d raided his wardrobe the way someone might touch something precious, reverent without realizing it.He couldn’t stop watching her.“Are you ever going to eat?” she asked, voice quiet, teasing at the edges.“Are you?” he countered.She smiled — small, real, tired in the way honesty makes you tired. “I will if you stop staring at me like you’re cataloguing my existence.”“Maybe I am.”Her laugh was soft. “That’s unnerving.”He leaned back, studying her through the low light. “You disappeared for days. I’m allowed to
Crossed Lines Chapter 94: Where the light waits
POV: ElaraThe road unfurled like a ribbon of silver beneath the morning sun.Elara drove with the window half-open, letting the cold wind tangle through her hair, the kind of chill that sharpened every breath. The world outside was a blur of pines, frost-dusted meadows, and long shadows that stretched across the highway.It was early — too early for traffic, too late for stillness. Just her, the hum of the engine, and the slow rhythm of her thoughts.She hadn’t told anyone she was coming back. Not Damon, not Hailey. Not even herself, not until she was already an hour down the road, with her suitcase in the backseat and her heart sitting somewhere between her ribs and the horizon.The mountains faded in her rearview mirror, replaced by the subtle rise of the city skyline, faint and far but growing. Each mile pulled her closer to everything she had run from; the noise, the headlines, the weight of being seen.But it didn’t feel like running anymore.It felt like choosing.She thought o
Crossed Lines Chapter 93: The sound of letting go
POV: ElaraThe television light flickered softly against the cabin walls.Elara hadn’t meant to turn it on. She’d only wanted to check the weather, but the moment the CrossTech press conference flashed across the screen, her body had gone still.And there he was.Damon Cross.Poised behind a podium, immaculate as ever, except….Something in his expression was different.He didn’t look like the CEO the world worshiped.He looked like a man who’d stopped pretending to be invincible.Her hands tightened around the mug she’d been holding, pulse stuttering as his voice filled the small space.“Effective immediately, the Atlas Initiative will be rebuilt and led independently by its original architect, Elara Duval…”Her breath caught.He wasn’t saving her.He wasn’t controlling the narrative.He was releasing it.Releasing her.The cabin was quiet except for the steady rhythm of his words — words that didn’t sound like strategy or PR or spin. They sounded like truth stripped of armor. Like c
Crossed Lines Chapter 92: Stillness between storms
POV: ElaraThe cabin was quiet except for the soft, uneven rhythm of the rain.It had started not long after sunset, a slow drizzle at first, then a steady pour that blurred the world beyond the windows into streaks of silver and shadow. Elara sat curled on the small couch, barefoot, knees drawn to her chest, a wool blanket draped loosely around her shoulders.Her laptop glowed faintly on the coffee table, untouched for nearly an hour. The lines of code she’d been writing swam on the screen, sharp and ordered, everything she’d once been proud to control. But tonight, it just looked like noise.She closed the lid gently, exhaling into the quiet.For the first time in what felt like years, there was no deadline chasing her, no boardroom waiting, no Clarisse lurking in the background of every thought. There was just the soft hum of the storm, the warmth of the blanket, and the sharp ache of missing someone she shouldn’t have let matter this much.Her eyes flicked toward the phone lying b
Crossed Lines Chapter 91: The weight of words
POV: DamonIt was almost midnight when the last light went out on the CrossTech skyline.Everyone else had gone home.Damon stayed, his office window overlooking the city that never really slept, not even in the quiet hours.He wasn’t working. Not really. The screen in front of him had long gone dark, replaced by his own reflection: tired, unshaven, stripped of the precision that usually defined him.The knock came softly.Ethan stepped in; jacket gone, sleeves rolled, a rare sign he’d stayed too long too. In one hand, two glasses. In the other, a bottle of whiskey Damon recognized instantly.It was the kind they’d opened the night CrossTech went public.Ethan didn’t say anything at first. He just poured two fingers each, slid one glass across the desk.“You look like hell,” he said finally.“Appreciate the observation,” Damon murmured, taking the glass.They sat in silence for a while, the kind of silence that only existed between men who’d seen each other at both their best and wor
Crossed Lines Chapter 90: The Echo of her absence
POV: DamonThe penthouse was too quiet.For the first time since he’d bought the place, the silence didn’t feel luxurious. It felt like punishment.Damon stood by the floor-to-ceiling window, city lights flickering beneath him like a living circuit board. From this height, everything looked manageable; small, contained and distant. But he couldn’t think his way out of this. Not this time.The press conference footage played again on the muted television. His own image — suit perfect, expression measured, voice clipped with corporate calm — filled the screen.He’d said the right words. Protected her, on paper. Controlled the narrative.And in doing so, he’d lost her.Damon pressed his fingers against his temples, eyes closing. He could still see her face that morning — the restrained fury, the heartbreak that had looked nothing like weakness.“You think you’re protecting me,” she’d said quietly.“But all I see is a man trying to manage me like a business crisis”He didn't have an answe
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