Beneath His Empire

Chapter 3: The Devil Arrives

My heart stopped.

Damien Blackwood stood across the street, rain dripping from the shoulders of his black overcoat.

Even from the fourth-floor window, his presence dominated everything around him.

People moved around him.

Cars passed.

The city continued its endless rhythm.

Yet somehow, he remained the only thing I could see.

"What is he doing here?" Marcus muttered.

I didn't answer.

Because I had no idea.

My phone vibrated again.

Unknown Number.

A new message appeared.

Don't go with him.

A chill ran down my spine.

I quickly looked outside again.

Damien was still standing there.

Waiting.

As if he knew I was watching.

As if he knew exactly where to find me.

Marcus grabbed my phone.

His face turned pale after reading the message.

"Aria, this is getting out of control."

"I know."

"No, you don't."

He pointed toward the street.

"One of the most powerful men in America just showed up outside our building while anonymous threats are being sent directly to your phone."

His voice lowered.

"Do you understand how insane that sounds?"

Unfortunately, I did.

Nothing about this situation made sense anymore.

Not the threats.

Not Project Eclipse.

Not Damien Blackwood.

And definitely not the strange feeling in my chest every time I looked at him.

Before I could respond, my office phone rang.

The receptionist.

"Aria?"

"Yes?"

"Mr. Blackwood is here."

Marcus swore under his breath.

I closed my eyes briefly.

Of course he was.

"Tell him I'm busy."

The receptionist hesitated.

Then she laughed nervously.

"I'm not sure Mr. Blackwood understands the word busy."

That sounded about right.

A few seconds later, the office doors opened.

The entire newsroom fell silent.

Every conversation stopped.

Every keyboard froze.

Every pair of eyes turned toward the entrance.

Damien Blackwood had arrived.

And he looked furious.

The billionaire CEO walked through the room without acknowledging anyone.

His focus remained entirely on me.

The intensity of his gaze made my stomach tighten.

He looked like a man hunting something.

Or someone.

When he finally reached my desk, the silence became deafening.

"Miss Bennett."

I folded my arms.

"Mr. Blackwood."

His eyes flickered briefly toward my phone.

Then toward the photograph on my desk.

His expression darkened.

Dangerously.

"Who sent this?"

I blinked.

"Excuse me?"

"The photograph."

His voice was controlled.

Too controlled.

"Who sent it?"

The fact that he immediately recognized it bothered me.

"Why do you care?"

A muscle in his jaw twitched.

"Answer the question."

"No."

The newsroom collectively held its breath.

Nobody spoke to Damien Blackwood that way.

Nobody.

Yet he didn't seem angry.

If anything, he seemed frustrated.

"Aria."

The use of my first name startled me.

We barely knew each other.

Yet hearing it from his lips felt strangely intimate.

"Who sent it?"

I lifted my chin.

"Why should I tell you anything?"

For several seconds, he simply stared at me.

Then he reached into his coat pocket.

My entire body tensed.

The room froze.

Damien placed a small folder on my desk.

"Because you're in danger."

The words hit harder than they should have.

I frowned.

"What is this?"

"Open it."

Against my better judgment, I did.

My blood turned cold.

Inside were photographs.

Photographs of me.

Dozens of them.

Walking to work.

Leaving coffee shops.

Entering my apartment.

Shopping for groceries.

Some had clearly been taken from a distance.

Others were close enough to show the expression on my face.

A wave of nausea hit me.

Someone had been watching me.

For weeks.

Maybe longer.

The realization made my skin crawl.

Marcus looked over my shoulder.

His face drained of color.

"Jesus Christ."

I looked up.

"What is this?"

Damien's eyes never left mine.

"Surveillance."

"From who?"

"I don't know."

I slammed the folder shut.

"You expect me to believe that?"

"No."

His answer surprised me.

The honesty in it was unexpected.

"I expect you to believe that whoever is watching you is getting closer."

A knot formed in my stomach.

Every instinct screamed that he was hiding something.

Yet the concern in his eyes looked real.

Terrifyingly real.

"Why are you helping me?"

The question slipped out before I could stop it.

For a moment, Damien seemed caught off guard.

Then something softened in his expression.

Only for a second.

Then it disappeared.

"You asked dangerous questions."

"That's not an answer."

"No."

His gaze darkened.

"But it's the only one you're getting."

I hated that response.

Almost as much as I hated the fact that part of me trusted him.

The rational side of my brain reminded me that Damien Blackwood was still the subject of my investigation.

Still the man hiding secrets.

Still the billionaire at the center of this entire mess.

Yet somehow he felt more like a shield than a threat.

And that frightened me more than anything.

Because trusting the wrong person could get me killed.

The rest of the newsroom watched in stunned silence.

Nobody dared interrupt.

Nobody dared move.

Finally, Damien glanced toward the windows.

His expression hardened.

"How many threats?"

I blinked.

"What?"

"Messages."

His voice sharpened.

"How many?"

I hesitated.

"Three."

A curse escaped his lips.

The reaction was immediate.

Raw.

Genuine.

As if the number mattered.

As if every threat personally offended him.

Before I could question it, his phone rang.

He answered instantly.

"Talk."

The person on the other end spoke rapidly.

Damien's face went completely still.

The color drained from his features.

For the first time since meeting him, I saw something that looked dangerously close to fear.

"Where?" he demanded.

Silence.

Then—

"When?"

Another pause.

The room seemed to stop breathing.

Damien ended the call.

His eyes locked onto mine.

Cold panic shot through me.

"What happened?"

He didn't answer immediately.

That alone terrified me.

Then he spoke.

And the words shattered what little peace I had left.

"They found your source."

My stomach dropped.

"What?"

His jaw tightened.

"They found him this morning."

A horrible feeling spread through my chest.

"No."

The word barely escaped my lips.

"No, no, no..."

I already knew.

Before he said it.

Before anyone confirmed it.

I knew.

Damien stepped closer.

"The police were called an hour ago."

The newsroom faded around me.

The room blurred.

The only thing I could hear was my heartbeat.

"What happened to him?"

The silence lasted only a second.

But it felt endless.

Then Damien answered.

And my world tilted beneath my feet.

"He's dead."