NOT A DEAD END

Elena POV

I picked up the envelope and turned it over in my hands.

No name. No logo. But the moment I opened it and saw the contents, I knew who it was from.

Dex.

It was a file thin, precise, impersonal. Classic Dex. The title on the first page read Lucas Grayson. My chest tightened. I had called Dex a few days ago, asking for anything any scrap of information on Lucas. Apparently Dex had been listening.

Still, a shiver ran down my spine.

How the hell did he know I was here?

No one came near the appliance room. Not even the cleaners. It was the forgotten part of the house quiet, dark, and reeking of bleach and mildew. I’d made it mine out of necessity, not comfort.

My eyes flicked to the hallway beyond the door. Only one person could’ve told him.

Damien.

I scoffed and shook my head, the very thought of his name souring my stomach. That bastard.

I still couldn’t believe he’d strangled me. Not metaphorically. Not with words. With his actual hands wrapping around my neck like I was disposable. Forget the time we’d spent plotting together, forget the truth we were supposed to be chasing. The moment I’d failed him, he’d turned into a monster.

How the hell was I supposed to know Adrian would buy the shares back?

It hadn’t been a misstep it was war. And somehow, I had been blamed like I’d handed Adrian the damn deed to the company myself.

I stuffed the file under my pillow and sat down on the floor, knees pulled to my chest. The room was cold again tonight, and the old heater in the corner had officially died three days ago. My blanket barely covered me. My phone was nearly dead. But I wasn’t moving back upstairs.

Not after what he did.

Not after he made it clear that he only saw me as a tool and one that was failing.

A knock came a little while later. I ignored it. 

But the knock came again.

Louder.

Sharper.

I stood reluctantly, brushing my fingers over my tangled hair before opening the door a few inches.

It was Damien. 

Of course it was. 

How the hell does he know where I’m staying..?

He was standing in the hallway, still in his shirt and tie from work, looking like he hadn’t slept in days. His eyes scanned the cramped room behind me like it offended him that I had made it my home.

“You’ve got three weeks,” he said without even a hello. His voice was cool, even, like this was a business meeting and not a conversation between two people who used to trust each other.

I crossed my arms. “I’m aware.”

He narrowed his eyes. “Then maybe stop hiding in a supply closet and start acting like you care.”

“I do care,” I snapped, stepping forward. “You’re the one who decided I was useless and threw me out like trash.”

His expression didn’t change, but I saw the faint twitch in his jaw.

We stood there for a beat too long, the air between us sharp with tension and something else something heavier. Then he turned on his heel and walked away without another word.

Good.

Let him walk away.

Later that night, the rain came.

At first, it was soft, just a pattering against the tiny window above the shelves. But by midnight, it was pouring hard enough to shake the walls. I curled deeper into my blanket, trying to block out the sound.

Then the leak started.

It came from the far corner at first a steady drip, then a full trickle. The ceiling tile sagged under the weight of the water, and within minutes, it split wide open.

I jumped up with a curse, grabbing the few dry clothes and notebooks I had, stuffing them into a plastic bag as the floor began to puddle.

Perfect. Just perfect.

I grabbed my flashlight and aimed it upward. More water.

I backed toward the door, trying to think. I couldn’t stay in here tonight, not unless I wanted to wake up floating.

The knock came again.

This time, I flung the door open without checking.

And swung.

Hard.

The wooden mop handle I’d grabbed in my panic slammed into something solid. And then someone cursed loudly.

Damien.

He staggered back, one hand to his forehead, eyes wide with shock and pain.

“Are you insane?” he barked, blood already starting to trickle from his hairline.

I froze. “You?!”

“Yes, me! What the hell, Elena?”

I dropped the mop. “I thought you were someone else!”

He stared at me like I had sprouted horns. “Who else would be knocking on the door of a leaking supply room in the middle of a thunderstorm?”

I didn’t answer. I couldn’t.

He wiped the blood from his forehead with the sleeve of his shirt, then looked past me into the room. “You can’t stay in there tonight.”

“I’ll figure it out.”

He let out a low breath. “You’ve been sleeping on a moldy floor and dodging buckets of water. I think you’ve proven your point.”

“I’m not proving anything.”

He stepped closer, eyes dark and unreadable. “Then come inside. At least for the night.”

I laughed bitterly. “You strangled me, remember? And told me to leave”

He flinched.

Good.

“I didn’t know Adrian would buy the shares back,” I said, voice trembling now. “I didn’t know they had that kind of leverage. I’ve been trying trying to find the truth. I’m doing it for me and for Lucas, not for you.”

His jaw clenched, but he didn’t say anything.

The storm roared louder outside. A gust of wind rattled the windows.

Damien ran a hand through his hair, wincing when it touched the cut. “Look. I shouldn’t have I lost control.”

That was the closest I was ever going to get to an apology from him.

I followed him silently down the hallway, soaking wet blanket in my arms, and he opened the door to my room.

He lingered in the doorway. “You got something from Dex?”

My stomach twisted. “Yeah. About Lucas.”

He nodded, lips pressed into a line. “Anything useful?”

“Not yet. But maybe soon.”

I could see the flicker of something in his eyes hope, maybe, or just the need to believe this wasn’t a dead end.

I didn’t give him more than that. He didn’t deserve more right now.

Damien stepped back into the hallway, then paused.

“Sorry for strangling you” he said 

My eyes widen in shock