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21: STALKER
The black sedan was still there.Damian noticed it in his rearview mirror. Parked across the street. Same spot. Same tinted windows. Same engine idling.Three days. Three days of the same car. Three days of the same shadow.He killed the engine. Sat still and watched.He checked the time on his watch, three minutes had passed and the sedan still hadn’t moved.Damian smiled.Victor's men. Has to be.He thought back to the first day he'd noticed it. He'd been dropping Serena off at her apartment. They had spent the afternoon walking through the park. Talking. Laughing. Her hand in his. The sun warm on their faces.He'd kissed her goodbye. Watched her disappear inside. Then he'd driven off.The sedan had followed.At first, he'd thought it was nothing. A coincidence. But he'd driven in circles. Taken random turns. Gone nowhere. And the sedan was still there. Always there.Not nothing. Definitely not nothing.____Damian stepped out of the car.The air was cold. Sharp. He pulled his jacke
LISTEN IN
The dining room was grand.Crystal chandeliers. Mahogany table. Silverware that gleamed under the soft light. A painting on the wall that cost more than most people's houses.Damian sat alone.His plate was half-empty. The food was excellent. He barely tasted it.Victor had excused himself moments ago. Something about a phone call. A quick glance at his watch. A muttered apology. Serena had followed soon after. A quiet word. A tense glance. Damian hadn't thought twice about it.Until he heard the voices.They drifted through the walls. Muffled. Distant. But clear enough.Damian's jaw tightened.He reached up. Touched his ear. Felt the tiny device nestled inside.The listening chip. He had slipped it into Serena’s teeth when they had kissed. Hours ago. Before they had arrived at the mansion. It had been a gamble. A risk. He hadn’t been sure it would work. But it worked. The technology was experimental. Pasternak had written the design plan on his hospital bed, and he- Damian had been a
19: THE DINNER
"Too bad Victor doesn't like painting because this is totally perfect."Damian's eyes were on the painting on the wall. A landscape. Hills rolling into a golden sunset. The brushstrokes were delicate. Precise. Full of emotion.Serena stood beside him. Her arms were crossed. Her head tilted."You think?"Damian turned to her. His smile was easy. Warm."I more than think, Serena. The fact that half the dozens of paintings in here belong to you makes it more mind-blowing. And each one of them is worth every penny."Serena smiled. A soft blush crept up her cheeks.Then the smile faded.She faced him. Her eyes were steady. Searching."I never said my father's name is Victor."Damian's heart skipped.One beat. Two.His expression stayed relaxed. A slight smile pulled across his face. Then it faded. He got serious. His voice dropped. Low. Almost nervous."I know I shouldn't have looked. But I googled him. Wanted to see the kind of man that had been able to birth a perfect daughter."Serena d
18: ARTIST
The warehouse job was mindless. He had accepted it on a Tuesday morning. Now he was stuck with a routine, one he didn't enjoy, but had to do anyway.Damian clocked in at seven. Clocked out at four. Three days a week. Eight hours of moving boxes, sorting inventory, learning the faces of every worker who passed through. The fluorescent lights hummed. The concrete floor ached in his knees. The air smelled like cardboard and dust and old sweat.He kept his head down. His mouth shut. His ears open.The foreman was a heavyset man named Carl. Liked to yell. Liked to throw things when he was angry. A clipboard went flying across the floor once. A wrench another time. Damian avoided him. Stayed in the corners. Did his work. Watched.By the end of the second week, he knew the names of every supervisor. Every shift lead. Every delivery driver. He knew who was sleeping with who. Who owed money to who. Who was desperate enough to sell information for a price.He filed it all away. Another layer to
17: THE DINNER
The shelter was quieter than the day before.A few volunteers moved between the cages. A cat meowed somewhere in the back. The fluorescent lights buzzed overhead. Damian stood at the front desk, watching Serena work.She was filing paperwork. Her brow was furrowed in concentration. A loose strand of hair fell across her face. She didn't notice.Damian's eyes traced the curve of her jaw. The way her lips moved silently as she read. The way her fingers flipped through the pages with practiced ease.She has no idea.She has no idea who he was. What he was. What he planned to do.She's just a pawn. The final piece to make Victor crumble"Here are the final papers," Serena said, sliding a folder across the desk. "Just sign at the bottom."Damian stepped closer. His hand reached for the pen. Then he stopped.Now or never."I know this is too sudden. And you are completely allowed to say no." He paused. "Would you like to grab dinner together once we're done here?"Serena looked up. Her pen
16: THE SHELTER
"So what's the story behind this beauty?"Damian's voice cut through the quiet hum of the animal shelter. He stood in front of a cage, his eyes fixed on a scruffy brown dog with one ear bent sideways and a patch of missing fur near its tail. The dog stared back at him with wide, trusting eyes.The shelter smelled like wet fur and disinfectant. Fluorescent lights buzzed overhead. Cages lined the walls, filled with barking dogs and meowing cats. A few volunteers moved between them, feeding, cleaning, comforting.Behind him, soft footsteps approached."He was found on the side of the road about three months ago."Damian turned.Serena Hartwell stood there, a clipboard in her hands, a gentle smile on her face. She wore a simple grey shirt with the shelter's logo, her hair pulled back in a loose ponytail. She looked different from the wedding. Younger somehow. Softer.She didn't recognize him.Damian's heart hammered once against his ribs. Then he forced himself to breathe. Forced himself
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