Shadows of BLACKWOOD

Chapter 7 – Vanishing Point

Damian barely slept. The Polaroid burned in his thoughts long after he tossed it onto the table. He kept pacing—back and forth, back and forth—like a caged animal, every instinct telling him the killer hadn’t just been in his home.

They were still close.

Watching.

Waiting.

When dawn finally crept through the blinds, Damian’s phone buzzed violently on the counter.

Unknown number.

He hesitated only a second before answering.

“Blackwood.”

A pause. Then Rowan Pierce’s strained voice:

“Get down to the station. Now.”

Damian’s pulse tightened. “Why?”

“You’re a person of interest,” Rowan said bluntly. “And trust me—you want to talk before this gets worse.”

Damian grabbed his keys. “Fine. I’ll be there.”

As he headed out the door, he scanned the street out of habit. Every parked car looked like a threat. Every window felt like a watching eye.

The killer wanted him paranoid.

And it was working.

⸻

The interrogation room was cold enough to bite. Rowan sat opposite him, arms folded, jaw stiff.

“Let’s cut the crap,” Rowan said. “You’re at crime scenes before anyone else. The killer leaves notes addressed to you. And now—” he slammed a folder on the table “—we have photos of you beside the first victim.”

Damian didn’t flinch. “Someone planted them.”

“That’s convenient.”

“It’s the truth.”

Rowan leaned forward. “Who’s the woman?”

Damian’s jaw locked. “What woman?”

“The one you were with in the woods. The one who disappeared before my officers saw her.”

Damian’s breath caught. “Her name is Isadora Vale.”

Rowan flipped through the folder, then stopped. His brow creased.

“There is no Isadora Vale in our system.”

Damian stilled.

Rowan continued, “No ID. No license. No birth record. No address. Nothing. It’s like she doesn’t exist.”

Damian felt a cold rush flood his veins. “That’s impossible.”

Rowan stood, exasperated. “Blackwood, you are either protecting her, or she’s part of this.”

Damian’s fists clenched. “She isn’t the killer.”

“You sure about that?”

No.

Damian wasn’t sure of anything anymore.

But he knew one thing: Isadora didn’t look like someone who hid behind bodies. She looked like someone who ran from something darker.

Rowan snapped his fingers, dragging him out of his thoughts.

“You’re free to go. For now. But don’t disappear.”

Damian walked out, pulse pounding with a single realization:

If Isadora didn’t exist on paper…

then who the hell was she?

⸻

As Damian stepped outside the station, the morning air felt heavy, suffocating. He tried calling Isadora—no answer. Again. Straight to voicemail.

Either she was avoiding him…

or something had happened to her.

His phone chimed. A new message.

No name.

No number.

Just an address.

A location on the edge of Blackwood.

A condemned apartment complex.

And one line:

“Come alone if you want the truth.”

Damian cursed under his breath. It felt like a trap. It was a trap.

But he couldn’t ignore it—not when everything pointed toward Isadora.

The building loomed over him when he arrived, its cracked windows staring like hollow eyes. Damian stepped inside, hand brushing his pistol.

Each floor groaned under his weight. Each shadow felt like it would lunge.

He reached the third floor and froze.

A door stood open at the end of the hallway.

Inside… silence. Thick. Heavy. Waiting.

Damian stepped in—and his stomach dropped.

The room was empty.

Completely empty.

Except for one thing.

A single object resting on a dusty table:

Isadora’s necklace.

The same one she’d worn the first night he met her—an obsidian shard on a thin silver chain.

Damian lifted it slowly. The metal was warm.

Like it had been taken off minutes ago.

His phone buzzed again.

Another message:

“She trusted you.

You failed her.”

A cold shock tore through him.

They had Isadora.

And this time, the killer wasn’t just taunting him—

they were using her to pull him deeper into the darkness.

And Damian Blackwood was already on the edge.