Chapter 6 - Hunting the Truth
779 Words
Anna’s nerves were frayed by the time her shift ended. Every moment she had spent in that restaurant had felt like a game of cat and mouse, with Damien as the hunter and her as the prey. She had felt his gaze on her every time she moved, like he was waiting for her to slip up, to say something that would unravel whatever truth he was searching for.
She needed to get away from him.
As she walked out of the restaurant, the air was thick with the scent of rain from the earlier drizzle. She pulled her coat tighter around herself and made her way down the dimly lit street. The city always felt different at night—quieter, lonelier. But tonight, something felt…off.
A presence. A feeling that someone was watching her.
Anna’s pace quickened, her heart thudding against her ribs. She glanced over her shoulder, scanning the street. Nothing. Just the usual parked cars and the occasional flickering streetlight. She exhaled, trying to shake the unease creeping up her spine. You're just being paranoid.
But when she turned the corner, her stomach dropped.
Leaning casually against a sleek black car, arms crossed over his broad chest, was Damien.
“Are you seriously stalking me now?” she snapped, coming to a halt a few feet away.
He smirked, pushing off the car. “Stalking is such an ugly word. I prefer…coincidence.”
Anna let out a sharp laugh, void of humor. “Right. Just like it was a coincidence that you showed up at my job. Twice.”
He shrugged, his expression infuriatingly calm. “I like the coffee.”
“You don’t even drink it.”
He chuckled. “Maybe I just like watching you work.”
Her jaw clenched. “Damien, what do you want from me?”
The teasing glint in his eyes faded slightly, replaced by something more serious. “I already told you. The truth.”
Anna’s pulse spiked. “I don’t owe you anything.”
His gaze flickered over her face, as if searching for cracks in her armor. “Maybe not. But something tells me you want to talk. You just don’t know how.”
She exhaled sharply, shaking her head. “You don’t know anything about me.”
“I know you’re scared,” he said, voice quieter this time. “I know you’re running from something. And I know you’ve been alone for a long time.”
The words struck her like a blow, because they were true. And hearing them spoken out loud, especially by him, made her feel exposed in a way she wasn’t prepared for.
She took a step back. “Stay away from me.”
Damien didn’t move. “That’s not going to happen.”
Her fingers curled into fists. “Why? What do you get out of this?”
For the first time, something flickered in his gaze—hesitation. As if for a split second, he wasn’t sure himself.
But then it was gone, replaced by that unreadable expression once more. “Like I said, I don’t like unfinished stories.”
Anna inhaled sharply, willing herself to stay calm. “Well, this one’s over.”
She turned on her heel and walked away, not looking back. But even as she made her way home, every step feeling heavier than the last, she knew deep down that she had just lied.
Because this story?
It was far from over.
Damien watched her go, his hands tightening into fists at his sides. He had expected her to fight him, to throw up walls. But what he hadn’t expected was the way she had looked at him—like she was afraid of what she might say.
She was hiding something. He was sure of it now.
Pulling out his phone, he scrolled through his messages until he found the one he had been waiting for.
Investigator: I got into the case files. Sending you the details now.
His jaw tightened as he opened the attachment. Scanning the contents, he felt the familiar sting of grief settle in his chest.
A crime scene photo. The body of his sister, blood pooled around her lifeless form.
And beside her, unconscious, covered in blood—Anna Sinclair.
His fingers curled around the phone as a storm raged inside him.
He had spent years convincing himself that this woman was a murderer. That she had stolen the only family he had. That she deserved to suffer just as he had.
But now?
Doubt was creeping in, and it infuriated him.
Because if she wasn’t the one who had killed his sister…
Then who the hell had?
- Writer
