2026-10-05 17:19:19
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23: CIRCLE
Be calm. Be calm. Be calm.The words echoed in Damian's skull like a drumbeat.He forced his face into something resembling confidence. Forced his hand to stay steady. Forced himself to breathe.Then he took Jason's hand."Mr. Steele. I've heard so much about you.Damian’s smile widened. Jason’s grip was firm. Warm. The grip of a man who had never lost a night's sleep over the lives he'd destroyed."Good things, I hope."Jason matched the smile. "Only the best."He released Jason's hand. Turned to the next man in the circle.The witness. The man who had stood in that parole hearing and spoken the words that set Damian free.Damian extended his hand."Mr. Steele. A pleasure."The man looked up.And froze.His face went pale. His eyes widened. A flicker of recognition. A flash of fear. Then—nothing. His expression smoothed over like a stone dropped in still water."Caleb," he said. His voice was tight. "Caleb Roth."He didn't take Damian's hand. Just nodded. Turned his gaze away.Damian
22: INVITATION
Damian slowly lowered the phone, turning his eyes toward Elena as she met his gaze, her expression tight. "Who was that?""Victor Hartwell," he whispered, his voice coming out, dead,... flat.Elena's eyebrows pulled together, her hand moving to the weapon she now kept hidden at her hip, her jaw setting. "What does he want?"Damian shook his head slowly, staring into the dark corner of the room. "He invited me over to his house."Silence descended upon the safe house. Elena stood frozen, absorbing his words, her sharp eyes searching his pale face."You think I shouldn't go?" Damian asked, his throat tight."Refusing would be suspicious," she said, her tone cautious."What if it's a trap? An ambush?" Damian's hands clenched into fists at his sides. "What if he's already pieced together my true identity and is setting a trap to corner me?"Elena walked over to the window, peering carefully through the tiny slit in the curtains, there was no one there, the street was still empty, quiet,
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
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