Page 51 of Salem's Fall
Okay, yes, Damien Blackhollow is hotter than sin and maybe there is some weird, annoying, undeniable attraction between us, but I’m a professional! Why does everyone justassume I’m some dumb, weak woman who can’t resist Damien’s charms?
“Oh, I know you’re not with him—yet.” He grins coldly. “But my brother always gets what he wants, and for once, he shouldn’t.”
I narrow my eyes. “What are you trying to say? You think Damien wantsme?”
“Oh, I’m quite certain he does.” His tone is mocking, but there’s something sharp beneath it, something dangerously close to admiration. “Someone like you—smart, brave, beautiful—I think you could actually be the one to make him happy. I imagine you could make a lot of men happy.”
His gaze flickers, heavy with suggestion, sending a wave of heat curling low in my stomach. It’s the kind of reaction I don’t want to have—don’t want to acknowledge. I hate the way he watches me, like he knows exactly what he’s doing. Like he enjoys knocking me off balance. He’s toying with me, and the worst part? My own damn body is betraying me. Because, objectively, Lucien Blackhollow is as gorgeous as his brother. There’s no denying it. And like his brother, he knows exactly how to use that sharp-edged charm to his advantage.
Seriously, what the hell is in the Blackhollow gene pool? Do they breed them to be this insufferable?
I grit my teeth, shoving down the spark rising in my chest. I refuse to play along with whatever messed up game this is.
“What’s your point, Lucien?”
“My brother doesn’t deserve to be happy.” Lucien leans closer, and I instinctively take a step back. “Damien isn’t what he seems. He’s a cold-blooded killer.”
His words hit me like a punch to the gut. I stumble back, grabbing the edge of a chair to steady myself.
“What?”I whisper. “Are you saying he killed his fiancée?”
Lucien tilts his head, considering me with those icy, cold eyes. “Damien is responsible. One way or the other.”
“I don’t understand.”
“You don’t have to. You just have to understand how dangerous he is.” His voice drops, calm and deliberate. “And it’s not just his fiancée. He’s responsible for our father’s death too.”
“But I thought that was an accidental drowning?”
“Oh, it was no accident, I assure you.” Lucien’s eyes flicker with a strange satisfaction as he watches me process everything he’s just said. “Don’t let him play you, Miss Woodsen. Leave this place, while you still can. Go back to Boston where it’s safe.”
“No.” I shake my head. “I’m not going anywhere. Not until I get to the bottom of this.”
Lucien’s gaze hardens, a flash of anger crossing his face, but it’s gone just as quickly. His lips part, as if he’s about to say something else. Something important. But then he only shrugs, seeming to change his mind.
“Suit yourself,” he says. “But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
He turns on his heel and strides out of the lobby, leaving me standing there, reeling from everything he’s just dropped on me. I exhale, my pulse erratic, skin still prickling from the intensity of his presence. Both Blackhollow brothers are terrifying but in very different ways. Damien’s danger is fire—it consumes, burns, pulls you in with its warmth even as it threatens to destroy you. But Lucien? Lucien is a blade. Cold. Precise. Sharp enough to cut through bone.
I don’t know which scares me more.
Our conversation still lingers in my mind as I step outside onto the streets of Salem’s Fall, the cool morning air biting at my skin. It’s one of those crisp fall mornings where the sky is heavy with clouds but there’s no rain yet, just the promise of it. There’s a certain energy in the air, a mixture of anticipation but also something darker than just simple holiday fun. Every day the town inches closer to Halloween,the energy seems to grow more intense. It’s like a ticking time bomb is hanging over my head now, thanks to everything I’ve learned about Veil Night and the impending fourth sacrifice.
I don’t know what Lucien’s angle is, but the information he gave me is too important to ignore. If even half of what he said is true, Damien is far more dangerous than I’d feared. If Lucien is to be believed, Damien is somehow responsible for not only his fiancée’s death but his father’s, and who knows how many others.
After a short walk, the Salem’s Fall Police Department appears before me. Its stark brick exterior, all business, stands in contrast against the cozy, whimsical small-town shops and restaurants surrounding it. I push open the heavy steel doors and step inside, leaving the kitschy charms of Salem’s Fall behind for the cold gloom of the government building.
A middle-aged woman with short-cropped hair and a scowl sits at the front desk, barely looking up as I approach.
“Can I help you?” she asks.
I step forward, forcing a polite smile. “I’d like to speak to someone in homicide, please.”
Her eyebrows lift, a bit rudely. “Do you have an appointment?”
I suppress an annoyed sigh, reminding myself to stay calm. “No, but this is about an ongoing investigation in Boston,” I say and pull out my business card, sliding it underneath the plexiglass. “My name is James Woodsen, and I’m an attorney with Whitehall & Rowe. I need to speak with someone regarding some recent murders in Salem’s Fall that may be connected to my case.”
Quinn would lose his mind if he knew I was doing this, using the firm’s good name and reputation to seek information without his sign-off. We usually follow formalities like filing discovery motions or subpoenaing records from law enforcement,or we hire a private investigator, but all that takes time. Time is one thing I don’t have.
