Chapter 9
917 Words
Lyra’s POV
We don’t call an ambulance.
We don’t call the police.
Because people like Damien Virelli don’t survive by trusting systems built to expose them.
They survive by bleeding quietly.
In silence.
And in hiding.
---
I press the towel harder into the wound.
Damien winces but doesn’t flinch.
He hasn’t made a sound since collapsing against the bathroom wall twenty minutes ago.
“I have to stitch it,” I say.
“You’ve never done that.”
“I’ve never shot someone either,” I whisper. “But here we are.”
He lets out a rough breath — somewhere between a chuckle and a groan.
“Point taken.”
---
The bleeding slows.
My hands won’t stop shaking.
I clean the wound. Thread the needle. Start stitching.
One tug, one wince at a time.
He watches me the entire time.
And when I’m done, he says softly, “You didn’t freeze.”
I look up. “I didn’t have time to.”
His voice lowers. “You saved me.”
“You’ve been saving me since day one,” I say. “Now we’re even.”
We both know that’s a lie.
We’ll never be even.
Not in this lifetime.
---
We burn everything.
The bodies. The broken glass. The blood-stained sheets.
Every trace of what happened.
Gone by sunrise.
Damien leaves nothing behind.
Except a clue.
On one of the intruders’ wrists — a tattoo.
A symbol.
A black serpent curled around a dagger.
It means nothing to me.
But when Damien sees it…
He goes still.
So still, it scares me.
“Who is it?” I ask.
His voice is a whisper.
“People I thought were gone.”
“Jade’s people?”
He doesn’t answer.
And that’s all I need to know.
---
Damien’s POV
We can’t stay here.
They’ll come again. Smarter. Harder.
And this time, they’ll bring more than guns.
They’ll bring memories.
So I pack fast. Minimal.
Only what we need to disappear.
Weapons. Files. The last untraceable burner phone.
And the car.
The one no one knows I still have.
I walk back inside.
She’s waiting.
One bag. Eyes sharp. Mouth set.
No fear.
Only fury.
I almost tell her she looks like her sister.
But she doesn’t.
She looks like me.
---
Lyra’s POV
We drive for hours.
No music.
No words.
Only the road.
And what we’re both trying not to say.
That this world — this chaos — it’s ours now.
And neither of us is walking out clean.
---
We stop at a motel just past the county line.
Off-grid. Cameras broken. Cash only.
One room. Two beds.
But neither of us mentions sleeping.
We’re not tired.
We’re wired.
Like every nerve in our bodies forgot how to rest.
Damien peels off his bloodied shirt and drops onto the edge of the bed.
His scar — fresh and raw — runs across his ribs like a threat carved in flesh.
I sit across from him.
And finally ask:
“What did you steal from them?”
He looks at me.
A long, unreadable look.
Then:
“A name.”
I blink. “That’s it?”
“That name can kill people. Or save them. Depends on who holds it.”
“And you held it?”
He nods.
“And now they want it back.”
He doesn’t nod this time.
He just looks at me.
Like he wants to tell me everything but knows the moment he does, something sacred will shatter.
So instead—
He kisses me.
---
There’s nothing soft about it.
Nothing careful.
It’s teeth and hands and gasps and desperation.
It’s a man with nothing left to lose and a woman who just realized she already has.
His hands slide under my shirt, hot and possessive.
I let him.
My fingers press into his back — right above the stitches I gave him hours ago.
He flinches, just slightly.
And I whisper, “Tell me to stop.”
He doesn’t.
He whispers back, “Tell me to start over.”
And then we fall.
---
It’s not romantic.
It’s not pretty.
It’s honest.
Raw.
Two broken people clawing for something real in a world built on lies.
His lips trace my collarbone.
My nails rake his spine.
We move like fire.
And for one impossible moment, we stop bleeding.
---
Later That Night
I can’t sleep.
I lie beside him — breathing steady now, his arm over his eyes like he’s hiding from the world.
I reach for my laptop.
Check the burner email Jade used.
There’s nothing new.
At first.
Then a file drops in.
One video.
No subject.
No sender.
No timestamp.
Just a title.
> “For Her Eyes Only.”
I click.
The screen flickers.
Jade appears.
And this time, she’s not crying.
She’s not broken.
She’s furious.
> “If you’re watching this, it means Damien told you part of the truth. But not all of it.”
My stomach flips.
> “He doesn’t know I made this. He doesn’t know what I left behind. And when he finds out—he’ll do anything to stop you from seeing it.”
Then she says it.
The one thing I never expected.
> “He loved me, yes. But I wasn't the only one.”
I sit up, heart racing.
She looks straight into the camera.
Eyes cold.
> “He was meant to kill you, Lyra. From the beginning.”
---
- Writer
