The Guest

The corridor outside Naomi’s ward smelled of antiseptic and floor polish. Damon stood with his back to the wall, phone pressed tight to his ear, eyes on the window at the end of the hall.

Patrick’s voice hissed through the speaker, low and urgent.

“We found the man who tampered with the cameras. He’s trying to get out of town. I’ve already sent men after him. He won’t make it to the airport.”

Damon’s jaw tightened. “Bring him in alive.”

“We will try our best sir.” Patrick said. He had seen a fair share of situations like this and it's almost impossible to catch men who have everything to lose alive.

“You will,” Damon said, an edge in his tone. “I want a name out of his mouth before he stops breathing.”

Patrick didn’t argue. The line went dead. Damon lowered the phone and stared at the screen for a beat, his reflection ghosting across it. The rage under his skin was a living thing, clawing to get out.

He turned toward Naomi’s room just as a hand clamped down on his shoulder.

Damon spun, instincts sharp.

“Reed,” he said, recognising the lined face, the greying hair.

Reed Aaronson. The man who’d been with Aaron for twenty years, who’d once taught Naomi how to sign her first cheque. The man he still pretty much looked up to due to his sheer likeness of Aaron.

Reed’s grip tightened and, before Damon could step back, the older man had fisted a hand in the front of Damon’s shirt, dragging him close until their faces were inches apart.

“You promised him,” Reed growled, eyes blazing. “You promised Mr Aaron you’d protect her. Is this what protection looks like?”

Damon didn’t flinch. He could smell the old man’s aftershave, sharp and bitter. “Let go.”

“Not until you answer me.” Reed’s voice cracked, raw with something older than anger. “She’s lying in a hospital bed, bruised and broken. Cameras tampered with. Security bypassed. All on your watch.”

Damon’s hands stayed at his sides. His tone stayed even but his eyes had gone cold. “I said let go.”

Reed hesitated, then released him with a shove. “Tell me you’re fixing this.”

“I’m fixing it,” Damon said. He straightened his shirt, fingers quick. “Patrick has a lead. The man who touched the cameras is about to be in my custody. Naomi is under guard. She’s safe for now.”

Reed shook his head, chest heaving. “For now. You told me this would happen. If you knew this would happen, you should have been more careful! You should have…”

Damon stepped closer, lowering his voice until it was almost a growl. “I don’t care what I told you. I’m telling you now: she will be safe. Even if I die in the process.”

Reed stared at him, the fury in his eyes flickering into something else; doubt, maybe, or reluctant belief. “You think death is enough to make up for it if you fail?”

“I don’t plan to fail,” Damon said.

For a moment they just stood there in the corridor, two men bound by the ghost of another. Then Damon turned on his heel and pushed the door open to Naomi’s ward.

Reed followed.

Inside, the room was quieter than it had been when he left. The TV on the wall was muted. The curtains had been drawn back, letting in a thin strip of late-afternoon sun.

Naomi sat upright in bed, her knees bent under the blanket, her hands folded on her lap. She wasn’t scrolling her phone anymore. She wasn’t even looking at the TV. Her gaze was fixed somewhere past the window, far away, as if she could see something only she knew.

For a second Damon just watched her. Something in the way her shoulders slumped made his stomach clench.

“Naomi.” His voice was soft but it broke the stillness like glass.

Her head turned slowly. She blinked, like someone surfacing from underwater. “You’re back.”

“Are you okay? What happened?” He was already at her bedside, crouching slightly to meet her eyes.

“Nothing.” She smiled, but it was thin, brittle. “Nothing at all.”

Damon’s eyes flicked to the tray on the bedside table. Half-eaten lunch. The chocolates he’d brought earlier, untouched now. The faint smell of someone else’s perfume in the air.

He straightened, scanning the room without moving his head. No one.

“Naomi,” he said again, quieter.

“I said it’s nothing.” She tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. Her hands trembled once before she clasped them tighter.

Reed stepped forward from the doorway. His voice, when it came, was gentle, nothing like the growl he’d used on Damon.

“Ms Naomi”

Naomi turned on recognition. Her smile widened as Reed gave her a slight bow, clearly out of habit.

“Mr Reed.”

“How are you feeling?”

Naomi’s smile held a little steadier for him. “I’m okay. Really. You didn't have to come all the way.”

“You look pale, Ms Naomi.” Reed said, his voice lined with worry.

“It’s the hospital lighting.” Naomi replied, a pathetic attempt at a joke.

Reed’s eyes softened. He’d watched her grow up, Damon knew. She’d been barely ten when her father made Reed his right hand. “If you need anything…”

“I’m fine.” She cut him off quickly, too quickly, then added, “Thank you for coming.”

Reed’s mouth opened, then closed again. He nodded once, stepping back toward the window.

Damon didn’t sit. He stood at the edge of the bed, one hand braced on the railing, watching Naomi like a man trying to solve a puzzle with too many missing pieces.

Something had happened. He could see it in the set of her jaw, in the way her eyes flicked to the door and away again. But she wasn’t going to tell him. Not now.

He forced his voice to stay even. “Patrick found the man who tampered with the cameras,” he said. “We’ll have answers soon.”

“That’s good,” Naomi murmured.

“We’ll move you to a more secure floor tomorrow. Guards outside.”

“Okay.”

Her answers were clipped, automatic. She didn’t look at him.

Reed glanced between them, brows knitting, but said nothing.

Damon’s hand closed around the rail until his knuckles whitened. He wanted to press, to demand. But he didn't want to push it.

So he just said, “Eat something,” and tried to soften it with a half-smile.

She nodded and picked up a spoon, but it clattered against the bowl mere seconds later. “Later,” she said.

Reed cleared his throat. “I’ll bring flowers tomorrow.”

Naomi’s lips curved faintly. “You don’t have to.”

“I want to,” Reed said simply.

They fell into a strange silence. The monitor beeped. The city hummed faintly beyond the glass.

Naomi nodded. “Thank you.”

Damon stood there, staring at Naomi, and Naomi stared past him, at something no one else could see.

He felt Reed’s eyes on him but didn’t turn.

He just stood, one palm flat against the railing, and thought, Whoever did this is still out there. And she knows something she’s not telling me.

Outside the window, the sky had gone from gold to grey. And a part of Damom desperately hoped to want what he was thinking.

If it was, his world would come crashing down and watching Naomi stared into space, his world was already crumbling.