Chapter 11
904 Words
Lyra’s POV
We don’t stop for twelve hours.
No sleep.
No food.
Just the road.
And silence.
The kind that hums between your bones and tells you something irreversible has happened — and there's no going back.
Damien hasn’t said a word since the shot.
I haven’t either.
But both of us know…
We’re being hunted again.
Only this time?
They don’t want me.
They want him.
And they’ll tear me apart to get to him.
---
We make it to a cabin buried deep in the woods.
No service. No cameras. No roads.
Just a place Jade once mentioned in a note I found taped behind a photo frame she left behind.
Inside the old cabin?
An envelope.
With my name on it.
In my father's handwriting.
---
I don’t open it right away.
I’m not ready.
Not yet.
Damien lights a fire, his eyes fixed on it like it’s speaking some kind of truth only he can hear.
“You okay?” I ask softly.
He nods.
Lies.
“You?”
I nod.
Lies, too.
The envelope sits between us like a bomb.
Finally, I reach for it.
The paper is brittle.
The seal already worn.
And inside…
A single page.
Written in rushed strokes.
> “If you’re reading this, it means Jade didn’t trust me to say it myself.”
I stop breathing.
> “Your mother died because of me. Not by accident. Not by fate. Because of who I used to be. Because of the name I protected — the name Damien stole.”
I look up.
“Is this it?” I ask him.
He nods once.
Slow.
Regret carved into every line of his face.
“You said it was just a name.”
“It is.”
“Then tell me.”
He hesitates.
I whisper, “Tell me who I’ve been running from all this time.”
---
Damien’s POV
I never wanted her to know.
Not this way.
Not from a dead man’s letter.
But the truth is a parasite.
It grows when buried.
And eventually…
It eats you alive.
“The name,” I say slowly, “is Elias Malcov.”
Lyra blinks.
It takes her a second.
Then her eyes widen.
“Jade’s ex.”
I nod.
“And your father’s handler. His supplier. His spy.”
Her voice breaks. “He was our neighbor.”
“He was everything. Until your father betrayed him.”
“And you…?”
“I was sent to eliminate all remaining threats. That included your father, Jade… and you.”
---
Lyra’s POV
Everything shatters.
Every memory, every scream, every hole in the story.
All of it—
Tied to a man I used to say hi to on the way to school.
The man who brought us groceries when Mom died.
The man who told me I looked “just like her.”
The man who watched us grow up…
And wanted to erase us.
---
I fall back against the wall.
Everything is spinning.
I can’t breathe.
I can’t think.
Damien moves toward me.
I raise a hand.
“Don’t.”
“Lyra…”
“Don’t talk. Not now.”
He pauses.
But doesn’t leave.
He just sinks to the floor, a few feet away, eyes on the fire.
“I didn’t kill him,” he says quietly.
“Elias?”
He nods.
“He disappeared before I could.”
I whisper, “You were really going to do it?”
“Yes.”
“And me?”
He looks at me.
No hesitation.
“No.”
---
We sit in silence again.
But this time, it’s different.
He’s not trying to hide.
I’m not trying to run.
We’re just… broken in the same room.
“I loved him,” I whisper. “As a kid. Elias. I thought he was family.”
“So did Jade,” he says. “Until he gave her up for a number in a bank account.”
I look at Damien.
“Is that why she left?”
He nods.
“He made her choose between you… and her own life.”
“And she chose me.”
A pause.
“She always did.”
---
I crawl closer.
Sit beside him.
He looks at me, surprised.
“I’m still angry,” I whisper.
“I know.”
“I still want to shoot you sometimes.”
He nods.
“I’d let you.”
“But I don’t want you to die.”
His hand brushes mine.
“I won’t.”
Another pause.
Then I say it.
Soft.
Real.
Terrifying.
“I love you.”
---
He exhales like he’s been waiting years to hear it.
Then leans forward.
Not for a kiss.
But to press his forehead against mine.
The quietest kind of desperation.
“I love you too,” he whispers.
“And I’m sorry it took blood and fire to say it.”
---
Later That Night
I wake to the sound of the old radio crackling.
White noise.
Then a faint voice.
No caller ID.
No number.
No signal.
Just a transmission.
Soft.
Female.
Familiar.
> *“Lyra… if you hear this… don’t go back. Don’t trust anyone. And whatever you do—don’t open the box in the cellar.”
My pulse stops.
Jade.
Alive.
And warning me again.
About something here.
Something close.
Something under our feet.
---
- Writer
