The room was cloaked in silence as Alex finished his story, his voice rough with emotion.
Without another word, he rushed to his room and returned moments later, clutching the worn-out note like it was a sacred relic. He held it out to Damon.
“Trust me, D,” Alex said, voice hoarse.
“I don’t know where she went or who helped her. I swear, after she vanished, I didn’t even bother trying to track her down. It was her choice. She sounded… confident in her path.”
Damon snatched the note, his fingers tightening around it, veins bulging in his forearm. His eyes scanned the familiar handwriting — and for a fleeting second, the iron mask on his face cracked.
“Still,” Alex continued,
"I knew you’d never stop hunting her unless you genuinely believed she was dead. That’s why I staged it all— to
