Caught in the Act

Chapter 11

‎The footstep outside froze me where I stood. My breath snagged in my throat, a sharp, painful knot that refused to move. The silence stretched, broken only by the pounding of my heart. Another step followed, heavier this time, deliberate. Someone was right outside.

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‎The knob turned.

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‎Panic surged, hot and suffocating. My first instinct was to run, but there was nowhere to go. No windows, no second exit, just this one door and the rows of files pressing in on me. The light above me buzzed faintly, flickering once more as if it knew what was coming.

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‎The door opened.

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‎I expected Damien. His cold, watchful presence. His piercing stare that always made me feel like he could read the thoughts I tried to hide. But it wasn’t him.

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‎It was Marco.

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‎He stepped inside slowly, shutting the door behind him with the same care as someone sealing off a crime scene. His eyes swept the room, the shelves, the files, and then finally landed on me. His gaze hardened, but his voice was calm when he spoke.

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‎“You shouldn’t be here.”

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‎The words fell soft, almost gentle, but they struck harder than a shout. My grip tightened on File 47, the sharp edges digging into my palms.

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‎“Marco…” My voice cracked. I didn’t even know what I was begging for. Mercy? Answers? Denial that what I was seeing was real?

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‎He moved closer, his steps steady, deliberate. The faint scent of his cologne reached me, a clean, sharp contrast to the musty air of the hidden room. He glanced at the file in my hands, and for a split second, something flickered in his eyes. Not surprise. Not even anger. Something deeper.

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‎“You need to leave,” he said firmly, his tone sharpening.

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‎“I can’t,” I whispered, my throat tight. “What is this? What are these files?”

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‎His jaw clenched. For a moment, I thought he might answer, but then he shook his head. “That’s not for you to know.”

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‎My pulse raced faster. I stepped back instinctively until the desk pressed against the backs of my legs. “Tell me the truth, Marco. These women… I’ve seen their faces before. They’re missing. People are looking for them. Why are they here?”

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‎He inhaled deeply, his chest rising and falling with a measured calm that only made me more frantic. He didn’t look away. His dark eyes held mine as if silently daring me to keep pressing.

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‎“You need to walk out of this room,” he said again, slower this time, like I was a child who refused to listen. “Right now. Before Damien finds out.”

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‎The mention of Damien’s name jolted me. My stomach twisted, bile rising at the thought of him knowing I had seen this place. Marco’s words weren’t just a warning. They were a threat.

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‎“You’ll tell him,” I said quietly, the realization chilling me.

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‎His silence confirmed it. His face was unreadable, but the stillness in him spoke louder than words.

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‎I swallowed hard, my throat burning. “Why, Marco? You don’t even look shocked. You knew this was here, didn’t you?”

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‎The air between us thickened. For the first time, something cracked in his calm exterior. A flicker of tension passed across his face before he masked it again. His voice dropped lower, almost a growl.

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‎“Put the file back. Leave the room. Forget what you saw.”

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‎My hands trembled. The folder felt like it weighed a thousand pounds, but I couldn’t let it go. “How can I forget this?” I hissed, my voice breaking. “There are women’s lives in here. They’re not just names on paper, Marco. They’re real people. That girl…” I lifted the file slightly, the photo catching the dim light. “She’s still missing. Her family is still searching for her. And you expect me to walk away?”

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‎His face hardened. He stepped closer, his voice sharpening, the calm unraveling into steel. “You don’t understand what you’re walking into. If Damien finds you here, you won’t get another chance. He will not forgive this.”

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‎The intensity in his voice made my skin prickle. There was something beneath his words, a layer of meaning I couldn’t reach, but it only fed my dread.

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‎“Then why aren’t you stopping me?” I demanded, desperation breaking through my fear. “Why are you just warning me? If you were really loyal to him, you would’ve dragged me out already. You would’ve called him.”

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‎For a fleeting second, his eyes softened, but it vanished as quickly as it came. His lips pressed into a hard line. “Don’t test me, Ivy.”

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‎Silence hung heavy. My chest heaved, my mind racing through a storm of questions I couldn’t voice. Did Marco know everything Damien was hiding? Was he part of it? Or was he bound by fear, trapped just like me?

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‎He finally spoke again, his voice lower, almost strained. “Leave now. Or I will report you.”

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‎The finality in his tone made my stomach lurch. He wasn’t bluffing. Whether he wanted to or not, he would tell Damien if I disobeyed him again. My blood ran cold at the thought of what Damien would do if he found me here, holding one of his secrets in my hands.

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‎But still, I couldn’t move. My legs felt cemented to the ground, my fingers refusing to release the file. My chest ached with the weight of the decision pressing against me.

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‎Marco’s eyes darkened. He stepped closer, lowering his voice to a sharp whisper. “Do not make me repeat myself. Put it back.”

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‎My breath shuddered as I looked down at the folder one last time. The girl’s photo stared back at me, innocent, full of life. The idea of sliding her back onto the shelf like she was nothing more than a forgotten name felt unbearable. But Marco’s presence loomed over me, his quiet authority a warning I couldn’t ignore.

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‎With shaking hands, I closed the folder completely and set it on the desk. My palms stung from where the edges had cut into them. The sound of the file hitting the wood echoed far too loudly in the suffocating silence.

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‎Marco exhaled slowly, watching me with an unreadable expression. For a moment, his shoulders eased, as if a tension had been lifted. But then his eyes hardened again, cold and resolute.

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‎“Good,” he muttered. “Now get out.”

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‎The sharpness of his words jolted me into movement. My legs finally obeyed, carrying me past him toward the door. As I brushed by, the heat of his presence pressed against me. He didn’t move aside completely, forcing me to pass close enough to catch the faint rise and fall of his chest.

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‎When I reached the door, I hesitated. My hand hovered over the knob. The urge to turn back and demand answers nearly consumed me. But Marco’s voice cut through my thoughts.

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‎“Ivy.”

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‎I froze.

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‎His tone was softer now, but there was no comfort in it. Only warning.

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‎“You’re walking a dangerous line. One you don’t want to cross.”

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‎I turned my head just enough to glimpse him from the corner of my eye. His face was shadowed, unreadable, but his eyes burned with something I couldn’t decipher. Fear? Guilt? Or loyalty twisted into something darker?

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‎Before I could say anything, he looked away, his jaw tightening. “Go.”

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‎The word struck finality.

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‎With my heart hammering against my ribs, I yanked the door open and slipped back into the hallway. The air outside felt lighter, but no safer. My hands shook violently as I pulled the door shut behind me, the echo of the files still burning in my mind.

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‎I walked quickly, almost stumbling as I tried to put distance between myself and that room. Marco hadn’t shouted. He hadn’t dragged me to Damien on the spot. But his warning rang louder than any threat Damien had ever spoken.

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‎He would report me. If not now, then soon.

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‎And when he did, there would be no running from what I had seen.

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