DAMIAN BLACKWOOD I took a few seconds to regain my composure, and breathe. No doubt, I was terrified to my bones about facing her. I did not know what to say or how to admit that I now knew the truth about five years ago. I did not know how to apologise, or the words to use, or how best to say that I regretted having her leave. Thinking of what to say felt too much, and I had somehow hoped that she would put off trying to talk to me so that the ugly moment would be postponed, until a better time. I didn't expect that it would be now! "You should have gone with the rest," I said, staring at my feet and turning with my back to her again. "Yes. I should." She replied. Still, there was no sound to show that she had walked away, no departing footsteps, so I turned again and found her there, still waiting. She, too, was not looking at me, but staring at something on the ground, something invisible, something away from me and my profile. Seeing her still there did something to me.
DAMIAN BLACKWOOD I had lived the last five years in misery. Hearing this woman's confession made me even more miserable. I had lost the woman who loved me, and who I had unknowingly loved. I had become as crushed as my father when he did not end up with the woman he loved, with Vanilla Black. I had tried hard to escape that fate but it was mine, now. I had been lied to and betrayed by the man I trusted the most. And I did not consider it overreaching, but I did think I could fix everything in one sweep. I would give this woman her son back, even though I would never know why she had known all that and still gone ahead to have a son with him. I would make Vincent pay for his lies and betrayal. And Eleanor... I did not know what I would do with Eleanor. Take her back, a thought came to my head, but I shook it off. Now, in hindsight, I know I had only been a burden to her, an anchor that kept her grounded. Maybe the truest form of my love for her would be to let her go. So I
DAMIAN BLACKWOOD The only thing constant is change. And I found out too late that I made the same mistake as my father, that I loved Eleanor Sinclair the same way he loved Vanilla Black. I always believed that I did not love her and my treatment of her convinced me that she was simply a woman I put up with, one I was tolerating. Until I woke up and she wasn't there anymore. Hell… seeing those photos hurt because I loved her. I should have known I loved her when I started to try to legalise my business as she wished I would for our children, when I cared less about the women I had been sleeping with before her. I should have known it when it broke me each time I hit her, and I should have run, nipping it in the bud before anything. But I let it grow until kicking her out sent my life down a downward spiral. I woke up and felt alone in my bed, even when I had someone in it. I smelt her even when she wasn't there. And when I tried to look for her, I did not find her. And when I di
ELEANOR SINCLAIR Marcus looked as though I was mad. "Isn't that the one man you should be avoiding?" He asked. "Why should I avoid him?" "He kicked you out of his life five years ago, and has probably swallowed another of Vincent's lies for all we know." "You do not know Damian as much as I know him," Eleanor said, her eyes glazing over. "To you both, he is the force in Vieuti, the man with the power to do and undo. To me, he is the only man I ever loved. He is many things, but a fool is not one of them. And he watched us run away. Believe me when I say that if Damian wanted us, he would have us in a heartbeat." "I'm not sure about this," Marcus countered, the doubt evident in his voice. "I am, and deep down, Helen-Nora knows it too. Damian saved us from Vincent the first time, and would probably be angry and hurt that Helen-Nora and I ran away from him. Now, we will return to him, and he will help us find Ailean again." Helen-Nora only looked distraught, and I knew she did n
ELEANOR SINCLAIR Once again, we got away. Forced to find another hotel, we were soon back where we started as Helen-Nora's tears filled the quiet hotel room, each struggle to draw breath a painful testament to her misery. We stood watching her, our hearts split between concern and growing uncertainty over how much of continuing to take her along with us was a good idea. The traumatic kidnap of her son had done enough to stripp away the defenses of the woman they knew. "My son. my lovely boy." she muttered to herself, her voice hoarse. "He's dead, and it's all my fault. All of it." I, who was still confused over all that had happened, reached out to offer what comfort I could, but Marcus signalled me with a raised hand, a warning glint in his eyes. He would later tell me that instinct could feel a confession over what happened hovering on the brink of her grief. "Helen-Nora," Marcus told her, his voice firm but not unkind, "we know you're in pain. But we have to know what's happ
VICTOR MOREAU This was my chance, however. The fleeting loss of his focus, the distraction-it was a vanishing moment of opportunity, but an opportunity nonetheless. Even while they were restraining me, it did not drain me as much as did the weight of what had happened, building a desperation that was going to consume me. My body ached, my head throbbed, and the knowledge that I'd been outsmarted by people I'd assumed were powerless were bitter pills to swallow. But seeing Helen-Nora, Eleanor, and Marcus drive off into the night had kindled a spark of triumph at Damian's defeat. It was a dirty, spontaneous victory, one that was going to buy me some much needed time, time that showed however brief. They dragged me deeper into the labyrinth of the fishery, along slicker, more vacated corridors. The stench of fish guts and cold, stagnant water was overwhelming. The gun shoved into my back to prevent me from running felt like hot scald, burning into my skin. My mind, though dazed an