Chapter 12: The Man Who Never Died
1027 Words
"Ask Aria where her father is."
The screen went black.
Silence swallowed the panic room.
I couldn't breathe.
Couldn't think.
Couldn't move.
The words echoed endlessly inside my head.
Where her father is.
Not where her father was.
Not where her father died.
Where he was.
Present tense.
Alive.
My knees suddenly felt weak.
I grabbed the edge of the table to steady myself.
Damien remained frozen.
His eyes fixed on the blank monitor.
As if willing Aiden to reappear.
As if demanding answers.
Unfortunately, I wanted those answers too.
"What did he mean?"
My voice sounded small.
Fragile.
Nothing like myself.
Damien looked away.
The movement alone filled me with dread.
"Damien."
Silence.
"Tell me."
His jaw tightened.
For several seconds, I thought he might refuse.
Then he exhaled heavily.
"The last time I saw your father..."
My pulse accelerated.
"...he was running."
I stared at him.
"What?"
"He knew something was wrong."
Damien's expression darkened.
"Something inside Eclipse had changed."
Every answer led deeper into the nightmare.
"What changed?"
"The experiments."
The word made my stomach twist.
Experiments.
Human experiments.
The more I learned about Project Eclipse, the uglier it became.
Damien ran a hand through his hair.
Clearly frustrated.
Clearly remembering things he'd rather forget.
"Your father discovered they were falsifying reports."
A chill raced through me.
"Meaning?"
"People were dying."
The room felt smaller.
Hotter.
Harder to breathe in.
"He tried to stop it."
The words came quietly.
Almost respectfully.
A strange pride stirred inside me.
Because that sounded like my father.
The man I remembered.
The man who always believed doing the right thing mattered.
Even when it was difficult.
"He wanted to expose them."
My throat tightened.
"And?"
Damien looked directly into my eyes.
"They found out."
Fear crawled through me.
Because I already knew what came next.
People with power didn't forgive betrayal.
Especially not when billions of dollars were involved.
"He disappeared."
The same word again.
Disappeared.
Not dead.
Never dead.
Just gone.
My heart pounded.
"You think he survived."
It wasn't a question.
Damien didn't answer.
Didn't need to.
His silence told me everything.
---
That evening, the mansion felt different.
The walls felt closer.
The shadows darker.
Every person I passed looked suspicious.
Every security guard.
Every employee.
Every face.
Because if someone could fake a death...
If someone could hide for eight years...
Then who could I trust?
I wandered into the estate's west wing without realizing it.
Lost in thought.
Lost in questions.
Lost in possibilities.
The hallway was quiet.
Almost abandoned.
Most of the staff avoided this area.
Or so I'd heard.
A strange feeling settled over me.
Instinct.
Curiosity.
The same instinct that had built my career.
I followed it.
At the end of the corridor stood a locked door.
Old.
Heavy.
Different from the others.
A keypad glowed beside it.
Interesting.
Very interesting.
I glanced around.
Nobody.
The hallway remained empty.
Something about the door bothered me.
Why place a secure room in a residential wing?
Why hide it?
My journalist instincts screamed that something wasn't right.
Suddenly, a voice spoke behind me.
"Looking for something?"
I nearly jumped.
Turning around, I found Damien watching me.
His expression was unreadable.
Which usually meant trouble.
I pointed at the door.
"What's in there?"
His gaze shifted briefly.
Then returned to me.
"Nothing important."
I laughed.
A short, disbelieving laugh.
"That answer alone tells me something important is definitely in there."
For a brief second, amusement flashed across his face.
Then disappeared.
"You should stay away from this part of the house."
Suspicion immediately bloomed.
"Why?"
Silence.
The worst possible answer.
Because silence meant secrets.
And secrets meant stories.
I folded my arms.
"Damien."
His eyes narrowed.
"Aria."
The way he said my name was practically a warning.
Unfortunately, I had never been good at listening to warnings.
"What's behind the door?"
"No."
My jaw dropped.
"No?"
"No."
The infuriating man actually turned around and walked away.
As if that ended the conversation.
As if I would simply accept it.
I stared after him.
Then looked back at the door.
A dangerous idea immediately formed.
---
Three hours later.
The mansion was asleep.
Or at least pretending to be.
I slipped through the hallway in silence.
Barefoot.
Heart racing.
Adrenaline surging.
This was a terrible idea.
An absolutely horrible idea.
Which was probably why I was doing it.
The security code wasn't difficult to obtain.
One distracted guard.
One quick glance.
One good memory.
Now I stood in front of the mysterious door.
My pulse pounded.
Slowly, I entered the code.
A beep echoed.
Then another.
The lock clicked open.
My heart nearly stopped.
I actually did it.
The door creaked inward.
Darkness greeted me.
I stepped inside.
The room wasn't a bedroom.
Or an office.
It was an archive.
Rows of shelves stretched across the space.
Boxes.
Files.
Photographs.
Documents.
Thousands of them.
The air smelled old.
Forgotten.
Hidden.
Immediately, I knew what this was.
Damien's private investigation.
Years of research.
Years of secrets.
Years of searching.
For Project Eclipse.
For Aiden.
For answers.
My hands trembled slightly as I approached the nearest shelf.
Folders filled every inch of space.
Names.
Dates.
Reports.
Then something caught my eye.
A photograph.
My breath stopped.
The picture showed my father.
Older than I remembered.
Standing beside another man.
The image looked recent.
Far too recent.
Not eight years old.
Not even five.
My pulse thundered.
No.
No.
No.
Shaking, I grabbed the photograph.
Turned it over.
A date was written on the back.
Three months ago.
The room spun.
Three months.
Three months ago.
Meaning—
A sound echoed behind me.
The click of a gun being c****d.
Every muscle in my body froze.
Slowly.
Terrifyingly slowly.
I turned around.
A man stood in the doorway.
Dressed entirely in black.
A pistol aimed directly at my chest.
My blood turned ice cold.
The stranger smiled.
Not kindly.
Not warmly.
The smile of someone who knew exactly who I was.
"Miss Bennett."
My heartbeat hammered painfully.
The gun never moved.
Neither did his smile.
Then he spoke the words that shattered everything.
"Your father sent me."
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