Frames Of Blood

CHAPTER 7: DAMIEN

"I want to bring him down," I said.

Scarlett’s expression didn’t change. She didn’t move. But I could feel her temperature drop—like she was waiting to see if I’d flinch. If I’d reveal some hidden agenda, some mask I hadn’t shown yet.

“I know what that sounds like,” I added. “But I’m not here to make peace. I’m not here to save you or ask for your forgiveness. I’m here because you and I are the only people who know what Harold really is—and I’m tired of watching him win.”

She arched an eyebrow. “And I’m supposed to believe that? Just because you showed up in a hoodie looking tragic and broken?”

“No,” I said, steady. “You’re supposed to believe it because I’m not asking for anything you wouldn’t already take. I’m offering intel, access, cover, and time. You want revenge? I’ve got the roadmap. You want blood? I’ve been bleeding quietly for years. The difference is—you scream it. I learned to swallow it.”“I used to listen to him talk about you,” I continued. “Scarlett this, Scarlett that. Said you were violent, unstable, ungrateful. I almost believed him—until I saw your case file. The forensics. The angles that didn’t add up. I found the unsealed court transcripts when I was eighteen. Read every single page.”

“And?”

“And they buried you. Fast. Sloppy. No motive, no fingerprints on the gun. His blood on the floor, your sister’s on your hands—and no one asked why the shooter wasn’t wounded. No one questioned how you got the gun, or why the panic call was delayed.”

l took a step closer.

“I don’t know what happened in that room,” he said. “But I know what Harold’s capable of. And I know they let him rewrite the ending.”