Chapter 12
750 Words
Lyra’s POV
> “Whatever you do—don’t open the box in the cellar.”
Jade’s voice still echoes in my ears.
But it’s too late.
Because I’m already standing at the door.
And Damien is right behind me.
---
The cellar creaks like it’s breathing.
Dust stirs with every step we take.
It’s cold. Damp. Like the air forgot how to move.
There’s nothing but shelves of empty jars, rotting crates—
And one steel box.
Bolted to the floor.
No lock.
Just a handprint scanner.
I look at Damien.
“Yours?”
He shakes his head.
“No. Jade’s.”
I blink.
“Wait—you didn’t put this here?”
He stares at it.
Like he’s seeing a ghost.
“No,” he says. “I didn’t even know it existed.”
---
We stare at it for a long time.
Then Damien says what I’m afraid to ask:
“She never trusted me. Not completely.”
I step forward.
Touch the steel.
It’s cold. Smooth. And humming faintly — like it’s alive.
Damien kneels beside it.
Pulls a small toolkit from his bag.
“If I can’t hack it,” he says, “we’ll try biometric bypass.”
I nod.
But I can’t stop shaking.
Because whatever Jade left in here?
She didn’t want either of us to see it.
---
Damien’s POV
It takes 32 minutes to crack the seal.
When it clicks open, I feel it in my chest like a warning shot.
The lid lifts.
And inside…
Not weapons.
Not money.
Not secrets.
But evidence.
A file.
Labeled with my name.
> "DAMIEN VIRELLI – CONFIDENTIAL / DO NOT RELEASE WITHOUT CAUSE."
Next to it:
A black USB.
A burner phone.
And…
A vial.
Of something dark.
Almost black.
Blood?
No.
Something worse.
“Lyra,” I whisper, “this is her insurance.”
---
I pull out the file and flip it open.
My breath stops.
Inside: photos.
Of me.
Killing.
Bleeding.
Running.
Things I thought were buried.
Things I made disappear.
Jade kept them all.
Dated. Cataloged.
Every mission.
Every body.
Every mistake.
“Why would she do this?” Lyra asks softly.
I already know the answer.
“Because she didn’t trust I’d choose her… if it came down to it.”
---
There’s a small note tucked at the back of the file.
Folded once.
In Jade’s writing.
> “For Lyra — if he lies, this proves it.
But if he tells the truth?
Then burn this.
And run.”
---
Lyra’s POV
My hand is on the file.
And for the first time in hours, I don’t know what I feel.
Not hate.
Not trust.
Just the heavy, impossible weight of knowing too much.
Damien’s jaw is tight.
But his hands are steady.
“Burn it,” he says.
“What?”
“I’m not running. Not from you. Not anymore. Burn it.”
I hesitate.
Then—
I strike the match.
And everything Jade saved?
Turns to ash.
---
We don’t speak as we climb back up the stairs.
But something’s shifted.
Something final.
Like a war ended inside both of us.
And then—
Bang.
The door flies open.
Wood splinters.
I drop.
Damien spins.
Gun raised.
But it’s not a stranger.
It’s a ghost.
“Hello, Damien,” the man says, stepping into the cabin.
Tall. Clean suit. Scar across his eye.
And holding a gun trained right on Damien’s chest.
“You look like shit.”
---
Damien’s POV
“Malcov.”
He smiles.
Like the devil just came home.
“I’d say it’s good to see you,” he says. “But I’m not much for lying anymore.”
I raise my gun.
He doesn’t flinch.
Neither does the second man who slips in behind him — silent, gloved, and carrying a case.
“I warned you not to get attached,” Malcov says.
“I warned you to stay dead.”
His eyes flick to Lyra.
“Cute,” he says. “She looks just like her mother.”
Lyra tenses.
“I should’ve killed you the day I had the chance,” I hiss.
“You had plenty of chances, Damien. But instead, you stole something from me.”
He opens the case.
Inside: a small black device.
And a timer.
Counting down from 24:00:00.
Malcov sets it on the table.
And smiles.
“One day. That’s all you get. Give me the key… or she dies.”
---
- Writer
