DAMIEN
Macey’s face went pale as she stared at her phone. Her hands shook so badly I thought she might drop it. “Damien…” she whispered, voice trembling. “Look.”
She turned the screen toward me. I took the phone from her, and the words flashed across the screen like poison. I told you I would get you.
My stomach dropped.
“Macey,” I said carefully, my voice low and calm. “Hey, look at me.”
But she couldn’t. She was already spiraling, panic written all over her face. “Who is this? Damien, who the hell is this?” Her breathing came in fast, shallow bursts. “They know about us. They know everything—how? How could they know?”
I put the phone down gently and reached for her. “It’s okay,” I said, even though I wasn’t sure it was. “You need to breathe, Mace. Come on, just breathe for me
