Page 55 of Salem's Fall
My stomach clenches with worry. Mark was an asshole, but Quinn—Quinn is different. He’s more than just my partner and mentor. Quinn is special to me. Maybe more special than I’ve allowed myself to feel because he’s my boss…
I shake my head.
No, Quinn is fine.
He’s probably just waiting for my memo before launching into another round of “urgent” messages about me leavingSalem’s Fall. Despite the seriousness of it all, I can’t help the tiny grin tugging at my lips as I attach the memo to an email and hit send.
Quinn is going to lose his mind when he reads all this—the Veil’s presence in Salem’s Fall, not simply a relic of the past but an ongoing force; my conversation with Detective Harris and the library archives confirming a pattern of ritual murders stretching back decades; and worst of all, Lucien’s revelation that Damien isn’t just entangled in this world, but destined to lead it.
A hard knock at the door snaps me out of my thoughts. For a second, I almost hope it’s Damien. I shouldn’t want to see him after everything that’s happened, but I can’t help it. I take a deep breath and open the door.
“Quinn?”I blink in surprise. “What are you doing here?”
Quinn rushes forward and sweeps me into a tight embrace. His arms wrap around me, strong and warm, pulling me against his muscular chest. It’s so unexpected, so unlike the usually composed and professional man I know, that I freeze for a moment.
“God, Woodsen,” he mutters against my hair. “I thought something happened to you. You haven’t answered any of my calls or emails for days!”
I pull back slightly, trying to process the intensity in his voice. Quinn is not a man of grand gestures or emotions. Seeing him like this, so vulnerable, shocks me.
“I’m fine,” I say. “It’s just been crazy here. I’ve been so busy with this case.”
He pulls back, though his hands remain on my shoulders, his eyes scanning my face.
“Busy?” His tone is sharp, frustrated. “You can’t possibly be so busy you can’t even check in. I was worried, Woodsen! You don’t get to do that—not when you’re working for me.”
I step back, folding my arms across my chest. “I’m handling it. You don’t have to worry about me.”
He looks down and sighs, almost defeated.
“This is all my fault. I never should’ve gotten you involved in all this.”
“You don’t understand, Quinn,” I say. “I want to be on this case—Ineedto be on it. There’s so much more at play here than we thought.”
“Then tell me.” Quinn steps closer, his eyes searching mine. “Tell me what’s going on, and we’ll figure it out together. But you can’t do this alone. It’s not safe.”
I hesitate, glancing at my cat, who’s watching us from his spot on the bed, his eyes thoughtful, unblinking.
“I’m not alone. I’ve got Lucky,” I say, only half joking.
“I’m being serious.”
I hesitate, shifting uncomfortably. “Well… Damien’s here too. He’s staying next door.”
Or at least he was…
His whole expression darkens. “He’swhat?”
“It’s not a big deal.”
“Not a big deal?” he asks, his voice tight. “What the hell is he doing here?”
I sigh, rubbing my temple. “I don’t know, Quinn. He’s Damien Blackhollow. He does whatever he wants.”
A muscle pulses in his square jaw. For a moment, it looks like he’s about to argue, but then he shakes his head, exasperated. “Of course he does,” he says, his tone quieter now, but there’s still a frustrated edge.
“Quinn, listen. This is so much more than just one murder,” I say. “Damien, his family, the Order of the Veil… there’s a pattern here that dates back decades—maybe centuries. I can’t leave now. I’m too close to the truth.”
“And what truth are you hoping to find? That Damien Blackhollow isn’t the monster everyone thinks he is?” Quinn’sface hardens. “Because I’ve been talking to the DA, and I’m starting to worry that he may be.” He pauses, taking a deep breath. “Or are you just trying to prove something to yourself?”
