No Idle Threat

The elevator doors slid open with a sharp ding.

Damon stepped out, his stride clipped, measured, but every muscle in his body was coiled with anger. His hand was tight around his phone, Patrick’s last message replaying in his head.

‘Soonie was moved to the new architecture branch. She and Ms Naomi used to work together in the same department.’

He had asked Partrick to run a background check on Soonie and send it whatever he had in the next hour. All he knew now was that she and Naomi used to work in the same branch before he decided to open a new one of his newly acquired company.

And here he was, stepping into the new branch, one he hadn't paid a visit to since he opened it, all for answers.

A confession maybe who fucking knows?!

His jaw flexed. Naomi’s terrified voice from the night before echoed faintly in his mind. She had another nightmare of being shoved down the stairs. The look of despair in her eyes was enough to make him burn the whole damned world to the ground.

That was all it took for the fury to burn hotter.

As he approached the open floor of the new branch, the staff froze. A few of them had seen Damon angry before but this was different. His usually calm, restrained demeanor was gone. His presence filled the air like static before a storm.

“Where’s Soonie?” he asked, voice low but cutting.

One of the assistants blinked nervously. “She’s in her office, sir. But..”

“Clear the floor,” Damon said.

The assistant hesitated. “Sir?”

“Now!”

Whatever they saw in his eyes made them move. Desks emptied, chatter died. The sound of footsteps and murmured confusion faded until only silence filled the room. Damon moved through the corridor like a shadow.

Soonie’s door was half-open, soft pop music playing faintly from a speaker on her desk. She was bent over her computer, hair tied up messily, a pen between her fingers.

When she saw him, she blinked. First in surprise, then wary confusion.

“Damon?” she said slowly, standing up. “What are you doing…”

“Asking me what I'm doing in my own company is quite something, isn't it?”

There was something about his tone that made Soonie stand to her feet, he was here for something and it wasn't a casual ‘boss-staff’ meeting.

Soonie frowned, unease creeping into her voice. “What’s this about?”

Damon took a step forward. Then another. His eyes were sharp, scanning her face, her hands, every small movement.

“Where were you the day Naomi fell?”

She froze. “What?”

“You heard me.”

“I was at work,” she said, brow furrowing. “I told the HR that…”

“Don’t lie to me.” His voice was rough, breaking through her words like thunder.

She stiffened, a flicker of fear or was it anger?...crossing her eyes. “Why the hell would I lie to you?”

“I don't know, you tell me.” He muttered.

Soonie folded her arms, whatever brought him here was serious. Is he going to tell her to stay away from Naomi? Because if that's what he intends to tell her then he's up for a…

Damon’s expression didn’t change. “She remembered something,” he said quietly. “A tattoo. A butterfly. On the wrist of the person who pushed her.”

Soonie blinked, her mouth parting slightly. “What?”

That was good news! A step closer to finding the bastard who tried to hurt her! “Have you told the police? I mean this is..”

He took another step closer until they were almost chest-to-chest. “You have one, don’t you?”

Soonie arched a questioning eyebrow, “A what?”

He grabbed her wrist before she could react.

“Let go of me!” she gasped, trying to pull away, but his grip was firm, not enough to hurt, but enough to demand the truth.

The sleeve of her blouse slid up, revealing the pale blue butterfly ink.

His heart dropped, it was the same thing Naomi had described.

“Explain,” he said, voice trembling slightly from the force of control.

Soonie’s pulse raced beneath his hand. “You think I did that to her?” she whispered, disbelief giving way to something bitter. “You think I…”

“You were jealous,” he said. The words came out colder than he intended. “You hated that she married me. You hated that I'm in the picture.”

Her eyes flashed. “Jealous? You think this is about you? Don't flatter yourself!”

“I think you wanted her gone. You claim to be her friend and you tried to kill her? Did Jack put you up to this?”

Her hand trembled in his grip. “You arrogant bastard.”

“Don’t,” he warned, tightening slightly. “Don’t make this worse for yourself.”

“You already made it worse the second you walked in here accusing me like this!” she snapped, wrenching her hand free. “You think I’d ever hurt her? Naomi’s my friend!”

Damon’s expression didn’t soften. He was too far gone in anger, too blinded by the thought of Naomi’s blood on the stairs, her broken body lying there.

“Tell me the truth,” he said. “Or I swear I..”

“What? What proof do you have? You storm in here, threatening me without proof beyond some dumb sticker that you call a tattoo….”

His brows furrowed. “Sticker.”

Soonie scoffed, eyes glistening now. “You don’t know a damn thing, Damon. You think you’re some hero because you show up and protect her like some knight in shining armor? She’s not your possession!”

“This isn’t about possession,” he snapped. “This is about the fact that she almost died.”

“And you think I pushed her?”

“You tell me!”

The room crackled with tension, breaths sharp, words clashing like knives.

Then in the middle of that silence, Damon’s gaze caught something odd.

Her wrist.

The edge of the butterfly tattoo had started to peel slightly under the pressure of his grip.

He froze.

Soonie noticed too, her breath hitching as he reached forward again, this time slower, and brushed his thumb along the ink.

It flaked.

A sticker.

A damn sticker.

The realization hit like cold water.

His anger faltered, his hand lowering. “What the hell…” he muttered.

Soonie jerked her wrist away, her voice shaking. “It’s not real. I got it for a charity event the company did days ago. It's a temporary ink tattoo for the children’s hospital. It washes off. The real one’s on my shoulder, not my wrist.”

Damon stared at her, guilt and disbelief crashing into each other.

Shit! He forgot all about the charity event. So much had been happening with Naomi and Jack that he'd lost track of work completely

Soonie took a shaky breath. “You really thought I’d hurt her?”

He didn’t answer.

“Answer me, Damon!”

He finally met her eyes and for the first time, she saw uncertainty there.

“I didn’t know what to think,” he said quietly. “She told me about the tattoo and I remember seeing one on you. Could you blame me for trying to find out the truth?”

Her eyes softened for just a second before anger replaced it again. “You need to get your head straight. Naomi doesn’t need you turning everyone into suspects.”

Before he could reply, his phone buzzed sharply.

Patrick’s name lit up the screen.

Damon swiped it open. “What is it?”

“It was Jack.” Patrick said hurriedly. “He called the technician’s phone and I think he knows we have the technician with us. He wants to meet. With you.”

Damon’s grip tightened around the phone. “Jack?”

“Yes. He says if you want answers, you'll have to meet him.”

Soonie’s expression shifted, confusion and fear blending.

Patrick’s voice lowered. “And Mr Damon… whatever you’re doing…. This just got bigger than we thought.”

The line went dead.

Damon stared at the phone, the sound of Patrick’s words echoing in his head.

Soonie crossed her arms, eyes wary now. “Well?”

He didn’t answer. He just turned toward the door, shoulders stiff, voice low.

“This isn’t over.”

And then he was gone. The door slamming shut behind him, leaving Soonie standing there, her pulse still racing and the faint imprint of his fingers on her wrist.

She stared down at the half-peeled butterfly sticker, her reflection faintly visible in the glossy surface of her desk.

“Damn it, Damon,” she whispered.

Outside, Damon’s footsteps echoed down the corridor, his mind already spinning ahead to Jack, to the phone call.

If there's one thing he'd learnt is to take Jack seriously. He does not make idle threats and he would hesitate to take drastic measures if need be..