The Twisted Fate

Chapter 11 - Unraveling Secrets

Anna woke up to the soft murmur of voices. For a moment, she was disoriented, her mind struggling to place where she was, why she wasn’t alone. Then it hit her—Damien. Allen. The warning. The slow unravelling of the truth she had buried for years.

She pushed the covers off and sat up, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. The clock on the bedside table read just past 6 AM. Too early for the world to start moving. But Damien wasn’t like most people.

Sliding out of bed, she padded toward the living room. Damien stood near the window, phone pressed to his ear, his voice low but edged with tension.

"No, keep looking," he said, his back to her. "I don’t care what it takes. Find something."

There was a pause before he muttered a quiet yeah and ended the call.

Anna crossed her arms over her chest. "Always working, huh?"

Damien turned, eyes flicking over her in that assessing way of his. He was still in the clothes from last night, his shirt slightly rumpled, his jaw shadowed with stubble. Somehow, he still looked devastatingly composed.

"Didn’t mean to wake you," he said.

She shrugged. "Wasn’t sleeping much anyway."

He studied her for a long moment, something unreadable in his gaze. "Nightmares?"

Anna inhaled sharply. "Nothing new."

Damien didn’t press, but the way his expression darkened told her he wasn’t letting it go. Instead, he moved toward the small kitchenette. "You have coffee?"

She snorted. "Do I look like someone who can afford to have coffee stocked?"

His mouth twitched. "Fair point. I’ll go get some."

She blinked. "Wait—you’re seriously going to run out for coffee?"

"I take caffeine very seriously, Sinclair."

Anna rolled her eyes but felt the corners of her lips twitch. "Fine. But I want mine with sugar."

Damien smirked. "Bossy. Got it."

He grabbed his coat and stepped outside, leaving her standing in the middle of her tiny apartment, wondering when the hell it had started feeling natural to banter with him.

Damien leaned against the counter of the coffee shop, watching the barista prepare their drinks while his mind raced through the night’s revelations. Allen’s sudden reappearance. The cracks forming in Anna’s version of the story. The way she had looked at him last night—defensive, but not guilty.

He had been so sure when he first started this. So certain that Anna Sinclair was the girl who had ruined his life. But now? Doubt was creeping in like a slow poison.

His phone buzzed in his pocket. He pulled it out, glancing at the message.

Investigator: Found something. You’re going to want to see this.

His stomach tightened. He quickly typed a response—I’ll be there soon—before pocketing the phone and grabbing the coffees.

The moment he stepped out of the café, his instincts prickled. A presence. Someone watching.

Casually, he adjusted his coat, his sharp eyes scanning the street. And then he saw him.

Allen.

Standing across the street, leaning against a sleek black car, sipping a coffee like he had all the time in the world.

Damien exhaled slowly, suppressing the urge to march over and slam his fist into the smug bastard’s face. Instead, he walked calmly toward him, stopping just a few feet away.

"Following me now?" Damien asked coolly.

Allen smirked. "Just a coincidence. Like you and Anna."

Damien’s grip tightened around the coffee cups. "What do you want?"

Allen took a slow sip of his drink before answering. "I want you to stop playing detective."

Damien chuckled, but there was no humor in it. "That’s not going to happen."

Allen sighed, feigning disappointment. "Pity. Because if you keep digging, you might not like what you find."

Damien took a step closer, his voice dropping to something cold and lethal. "That sounds like a threat."

Allen tilted his head. "It’s a warning. For your sake. And hers."

Damien didn’t flinch. "If you’re so desperate to keep the past buried, maybe I should be digging deeper."

Allen’s smile faltered for just a second—just enough for Damien to see the flicker of something behind his mask. And that was all he needed.

Without another word, Allen pushed off the car and walked away, disappearing into the city. Damien exhaled sharply, his mind racing.

Allen was nervous.

That meant he was onto something.

When Damien returned to Anna’s apartment, she was sitting on the couch, absently flipping through a magazine she probably wasn’t actually reading. She looked up as he entered, her gaze flicking to the coffees in his hand.

"Took you long enough. Thought you got kidnapped."

Damien smirked as he handed her the cup. "Wouldn’t be that easy to take me down."

She snorted but took the coffee, wrapping her hands around the warmth. "What’s that look on your face?"

He sat down across from her, resting his elbows on his knees. "I ran into Allen."

Her grip on the cup tightened. "What did he say?"

"That I should stop digging. That you should stop, too."

Anna exhaled sharply. "Sounds familiar."

Damien studied her carefully. "I think he’s scared."

She scoffed. "Allen doesn’t get scared."

"Maybe not before. But now? He’s slipping. And that means we’re close to something."

Anna swallowed, her mind spinning. We.

When had this turned into we?

She met Damien’s gaze, and for the first time, she didn’t see the man who had entered her life looking for revenge. She saw someone who was fighting alongside her.

And that terrified her more than anything else.

Because if she let herself believe that Damien was on her side…

Then there was no turning back.