Chapter 10 - Lines We Shouldn’t Cross
1003 Words
The ride back to Anna’s apartment was steeped in silence, thick and heavy like an approaching storm. Damien drove with one hand on the wheel, the other resting against his jaw, his knuckles taut with tension. His sharp blue eyes remained fixed on the road, but Anna could feel the energy radiating off him—controlled, yet simmering beneath the surface.
She kept her gaze out the window, watching the blurred city lights streak past. Her mind was still reeling from her encounter with Allen. The way he had looked at her, the way his words had slithered beneath her skin like poison—she had spent years trying to erase him from her life, yet here he was, resurrected like a ghost from her worst nightmares.
And Damien had seen it all.
The car slowed as they reached her street, and he pulled up to the curb outside her building. The second he shifted the car into park, he turned to face her. “Are you going to tell me what the hell that was about?”
Anna tensed, her fingers tightening in her lap. “I already told you. He was warning me to stop digging.”
Damien’s jaw clenched. “He wouldn’t just show up after all these years for a warning.”
She exhaled sharply, pressing her fingers against her temples. “I don’t know what you want me to say, Damien. That seeing him made my skin crawl? That I wanted to run and never look back? That he looked at me like he still owned a piece of me?”
Damien’s eyes darkened, his entire body going rigid. “He doesn’t.”
She let out a dry laugh, shaking her head. “Doesn’t he? He and Gizelle and everyone else who made sure I took the fall that night?”
The words spilled out before she could stop them, raw and unfiltered. And the second they did, she regretted them. Because Damien latched onto them like a predator catching a scent.
“What did you just say?”
Anna cursed herself, gripping the strap of her bag tightly. “Nothing.”
“Bullshit.” His voice was sharp, edged with something dangerous. “You said ‘made sure you took the fall.’”
Anna swallowed hard, keeping her eyes locked on the dashboard. She had spent so long burying the truth, convincing herself that no one would ever believe her, that she had learned to pretend it didn’t exist.
But now, sitting here in the dim glow of the streetlight, with Damien watching her like he was unravelling every thread she had carefully woven, it felt impossible to ignore.
She forced herself to look at him. “You said you wanted the truth? Fine. Here it is.”
She sucked in a breath. “I don’t remember killing your sister. I don’t remember anything from that night. One second, I was at that party, and the next thing I knew, I was waking up covered in blood with a dead body beside me. The police found me like that. And everyone—everyone—was so quick to point the finger at me. No one questioned it. No one asked if I was telling the truth. They just…accepted it. Because it was easier that way.”
Damien was completely still, his expression unreadable. “And you think they set you up.”
Anna let out a shaky breath. “I don’t know. But Allen and Gizelle—something about the way they’re acting now, after all these years—it doesn’t feel like coincidence.”
A muscle ticked in Damien’s jaw as he absorbed her words. Then, without a word, he pushed open his door and got out.
Anna blinked. “What—where are you going?”
He rounded the car, opening her door before she could react. “Inside.”
She frowned. “Excuse me?”
“You’re not staying here alone tonight.”
Anna’s heart skipped. “Damien—”
“I’m not arguing about this.” His voice was firm, unwavering. “Allen didn’t show up just to say hi. If he’s warning you, it means he’s scared. And if he’s scared, that means we’re close to something. I’m not letting you be alone if they try to silence you.”
Anna wanted to protest, wanted to tell him she didn’t need saving, that she could take care of herself. But the truth was, she wasn’t sure she believed that anymore. Not after tonight.
With a reluctant sigh, she stepped out of the car, Damien closing the door behind her as they walked toward her apartment building.
Once inside, the small space felt even smaller with him in it. He was too big, too present, his energy crackling against her own. She threw her bag onto the table and exhaled. “You really don’t have to stay.”
Damien leaned against the wall, crossing his arms. “Not happening.”
She rolled her eyes but didn’t argue further. Instead, she disappeared into the bathroom, splashing cold water on her face in an attempt to clear her mind. When she came back out, Damien had settled on her worn-out couch, his long legs stretched out, his phone in his hand.
“I’ll take the couch,” he said without looking up. “Go to bed.”
She frowned. “What makes you think I can sleep?”
His gaze lifted, locking onto hers. “Then don’t. But at least try.”
She hesitated, then sighed, retreating to her bedroom. But sleep didn’t come easily. She lay awake, staring at the ceiling, listening to the quiet hum of Damien breathing in the other room. The thought of him being here, in her space, should have unnerved her. Instead, it was oddly comforting.
A part of her hated that.
She had spent so long believing she was alone in this fight. That no one would ever be in her corner.
But now…
She wasn’t so sure.
- Writer
