Page 39 of Damian
I pulled up the files I’d been digging through for weeks. Shipping manifests, old property records, coded transfers hidden inside bland reports. At first glance, it was nothing but noise. But I’d trained myself to see patterns where others didn’t.
And there it was again.
The same company name is buried in three different files. Harmless on its own, but paired with the dates and locations, it painted a trail. A shipment routed through the docks, then vanished. A rental truck is tied to the same address. And now, the mill where I’d been.
I leaned closer, my stomach tightening. This wasn’t random. It was a pipeline. And someone was hiding it in plain sight.
My recorder clicked on as if by instinct. “Note: the shell company is acting as cover. Trail crosses through warehouses at the docks, industrial parks on the edge of the city, and possibly farm storage units inland. Whoever’s running this knows how to make the trail look broken—but it isn’t. It’s one chain.”
The words tumbled out faster as the picture sharpened in my mind.
And then my cursor froze.
Because another name had just popped up, buried in one of the property deeds. A name I knew. A name that didn’t belong.
My pulse spiked. If I was right, this wasn’t just Luthor. This was someone with ties deeper than we’d guessed.
I snapped the recorder off, staring at the screen as fear clawed up my spine.
Damian had promised he’d come back when it was over. But what if what I’d just uncovered meantoverwas a lot further away than any of us thought?
I swallowed hard and whispered to the empty room, “What have I gotten us into?”
49
Morgan
The cursor blinked at me, daring me to move. One keystroke, and the guys would see what I’d uncovered. One keystroke, and I’d be admitting I was still in this fight, that I hadn’t listened when Damian told me to stay out of it.
I chewed my lip, fingers hovering over the keys.
Damian’s face came back to me—his voice low, his promise steady.“When this is finished, I’ll be back.”The way his eyes burned when he told me to trust him. The memory tightened in my chest like a fist.
If I sent this breadcrumb, he’d know. They all would. Cyclone would catch the pattern, River would curse and roll his eyes, and Roger would probably grit his teeth until his jaw cracked. And Damian—
He’d look at me with that mix of anger and fear again. Only this time, maybe it wouldn’t soften. Maybe he wouldn’t forgive me.
But if I didn’t send it? If I sat here with Ruby safe in her bed, pretending I couldn’t see the chain stretching across those files? Then more girls would disappear. Luthor wouldkeep breathing. And Damian would keep risking his life blind.
I swallowed hard, pressing a hand over the recorder like it could ground me. “You told me not to write this into a book,” I whispered, “but Damian, I don’t know how not to write this for you.”
My throat ached as I forced myself to type, embedding the coordinates into the data stream the same way I had before. A breadcrumb tucked between the lines, waiting for Cyclone’s sharp eyes to pull it free.
When I hit enter, the weight in my chest shifted. Not lighter. Not heavier. Just different.
I leaned back in the chair, staring at the ceiling as tears burned behind my eyes.
“Please see it,” I whispered. “Please understand why I do this.”
The recorder’s red light blinked steadily in the dark, capturing every word I was too afraid to say out loud.
50
Damian
The farmhouse wasn’t the same as it was before Morgan left. The room smelled like stale takeout, the kind of smell that clung after too many nights chasing dead ends. River paced in front of the windows, muttering under his breath. Roger cleaned his weapon with sharp, efficient motions.
Cyclone hunched over his laptop, eyes rimmed red but locked on the screen. I leaned against the table, trying not to look at the empty chair across from me. The one where Morgan used to sit with her recorder in hand.
