Page 45 of The Last Shadow

“You deserve to be safe,” I say finally, my voice almost too quiet to hear. “You deserve to be happy.”

She leans in, resting her head on my shoulder like she used to when we were kids. “I am. And it’s all because of you.”

The simplicity of her words, the way she says them with such certainty, makes me want to scream. She’s whole, she’s healing, and all I can think of is that I might be ripped away from her because of the things I’ve done. I wonder if she’ll forgive me, or if she’ll even want to.

But Francesca—what if she tells? What if, after everything, my confession drives her to turn me in? I told her I’m done hiding, but the truth is, I’m terrified. For me, yes, but more for Olivia, left to pick up pieces of a life that’s already cracked and fragile.

Olivia must feel the tension in me because she lifts her head, peering at me with clarity in her eyes. “Damien, are you really okay?”

For a second, I want to tell her everything, to let the whole truth spill out and fall between us, raw and unforgiving. I want her to know what I’ve done, how far I’ve gone for her, the sacrifices I made that tore pieces out of me until there was almost nothing left. But I can’t. I won’t taint this moment, this fragile peace she’s worked so hard to find.

“Yeah, Liv,” I manage, barely meeting her gaze. “I’m proud of you. More than you’ll ever know.”

She watches me, not entirely convinced but willing to let it go, and she leans back against her pillow, looking out the window.

After a long moment, she turns back to me. “Thank you, Damien. You’re the only reason I’m getting better. I’ve got a long way to go.”

“I’ll always be here for you, Olivia. No matter what.”

Just as Olivia’s words settle over me, my phone vibrates in my pocket, jolting me back to reality. I glance down and see Francesca’s name on the screen.

This is it. The end of my life as I know it.

Francesca: I need you to come home. We have something to talk about.

I shove my phone back into my pocket and look at Olivia, sitting here with hope in her eyes.

I stand and say, “I’ll be back,” trying to keep my voice steady. I want to come back. But I don’t know if I will.

She pouts like she did when we were kids, and it makes me smile. “Promise?”

My throat tightens, but I nod, giving her the best smile I can manage. “Yeah. I promise.”

I turn away before the lie settles, before it digs in and feels real, because for all I know, Francesca’s waiting with a squad of officers at the cabin, ready to end this chapter of my life for good.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Frankie

I pace the length of the empty bedroom, my heart hammering like a caged animal against my ribs. It’s like I can feel the walls closing in. I don’t know if I’m doing the right thing—hell, I don’t even know what the right thing is anymore. But staying silent feels wrong and doing my job breaks my heart knowing whatI’vedone.

Damien’s been gone a while and I don’t even know how long it will be before he gets here. After investigating the cases and the torture of the dead men, I should be repulsed, disgusted even. But I feel a strange understanding, empathy for a man who should be nothing but a name in a file,notthe man I married.

Everything about Damien makes sense now, the haunted look in his eyes, the anger, the relentless need for control. What he and his sister went through, what he’s done for her, everything.

It all clicks into place with a terrible clarity. Seeing Olivia makes me realize that he’s bound to her pain in ways I’ll never understand. For him, this revenge is more than justice.

It’s his way of balancing the scales, a way to heal what can’t ever be fixed.

But then, there’s my badge. My duty. I’m a cop, sworn to uphold justice. Justice for everyone, no matter how ugly or vile they are. That’s the code I live by, isn’t it? Can I bring myself to undo everything Damien has done? Can I really drag this whole bloody mess into the light, lay it out there in the open for others to judge?

And for what? Justice for monsters who ruined lives and walked free? Does anyone truly benefit from that?

“FUCK!” I scream at the wall, my fists clenched. “FUUUCK!”

I inhale slowly, trying to ground myself. I have to do this. I head upstairs and change from lounge pants and a sweater to jeans and boots. The air’s getting colder, and I don’t want to look like a cop—or a hot mess.

As I reach the living room, I hear Damien’s voice echoing through the house. “Frankie?” His voice is loud, then softer. “Francesca?”

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