The weight of what I had overheard the night before still clung to me like a second skin. Every time I closed my eyes, I could hear Damon’s voice, calm and cold, saying: I’ll handle it. The words echoed in my mind, twisting into something far more sinister each time I replayed them.
What did handle mean? Would he kill the survivor? Had he already killed others?
I wasn’t sure what frightened me more—the possibility that Damon was a murderer or the fact that a part of me still wanted to believe in him.
But I had to face the truth.
And the truth was dangerous.
The Office Atmosphere Felt Different
The next morning, the air in the office felt heavier, more suffocating than usual. I stepped inside, gripping my bag tightly as I walked toward my desk. My heart pounded, but I forced myself to
