Chapter Twenty - Buried Secrets
880 Words
Damien did not want her going.
“That message could be a trap.”
Amara stood near the window, gripping her phone tightly.
“And if it isn’t?”
“We don’t know who this person is.”
“We also don’t know who’s been watching us for five years.”
His jaw tightened.
“I’ll send someone.”
“No.”
The answer came immediately.
“If whoever this is sees security, they disappear.”
“That’s a risk I can take.”
“It’s not only your risk.”
Silence stretched between them.
Finally Damien said, “You are not going alone.”
The meeting place was an old café near the edge of the mainland.
Not crowded.
Not empty.
The kind of place where people kept their heads down and minded their business.
Jonah checked the area first.
“Two exits,” he said quietly. “No visible threat.”
Damien looked at Amara.
“You stay where I can see you.”
“You’re starting to sound controlling.”
“I’m starting to sound worried.”
That silenced her.
They entered separately.
The man was already there.
Mid-fifties. Thin. Nervous. A faded cap pulled low over his face.
But the moment Amara saw him, recognition hit.
“You.”
The man looked up carefully.
“You remember me.”
He had been near her office years ago.
A security guard from the building opposite.
Not close enough to matter back then.
But now—
“You sent the messages?”
“Yes.”
Damien sat opposite him.
“Start talking.”
The man swallowed hard.
“My name is Bello.”
“Why contact her now?” Damien asked.
“Because people are dying again.”
The words settled heavily.
Amara felt cold immediately.
“What do you mean again?”
Bello looked around before lowering his voice.
“The men asking about you five years ago… they weren’t random.”
Damien’s expression hardened.
“Who sent them?”
“I don’t know names.”
“Then what do you know?”
Bello hesitated.
“I worked security near Amara’s office back then. One night I saw two men waiting outside.”
Amara’s stomach tightened.
“One of them kept asking questions about Damien Vale.”
Damien leaned forward slightly.
“And?”
“A week later, I saw the same men outside the hospital after your attack.”
The room went still.
Amara looked sharply at Damien.
“You never told me there was a hospital.”
“It wasn’t public.”
Bello nodded quickly.
“That’s why I knew something was wrong. Those men shouldn’t have known either.”
Damien’s eyes narrowed.
“You’re saying my attack was planned.”
“Yes.”
“And not from outside.”
Bello’s face grew paler.
“One of the men said something before they left.”
“What?”
He swallowed.
“He said nobody would suspect family.”
Silence crashed over the table.
Amara felt her pulse hammering.
Damien did not move.
But something terrifyingly calm settled over him.
“Did you recognize them?”
“One.”
“Name.”
“I don’t know his real name. But I saw him again later at a Vale event.”
Jonah stepped closer behind Damien.
“Which event?”
“A charity dinner. He was speaking with someone important.”
Damien’s voice lowered.
“Who?”
Bello looked shaken now.
“I didn’t see clearly.”
“You saw enough to contact us after five years,” Damien said. “So say it.”
The older man’s hands trembled.
“It was someone from the family.”
Amara looked at Damien.
His expression had gone unreadable.
Cold in a way she had never seen before.
“Was it Adrian?” she asked quietly.
Before Bello could answer, his eyes suddenly widened.
Past them.
Toward the window.
Fear exploded across his face.
“Get down!” Jonah shouted.
The gunshot shattered the café.
Glass burst inward.
People screamed.
Damien grabbed Amara instantly, pulling her toward the floor as Jonah moved toward the entrance.
Another shot rang out.
Then silence.
Too fast.
Too sudden.
Damien looked up sharply.
Bello was slumped sideways in the booth.
Blood spreading across his shirt.
Amara’s breath caught painfully.
“No—”
Jonah rushed toward the door, but outside a motorcycle was already disappearing into traffic.
“Damn it!”
The café had erupted into chaos.
People running.
Chairs overturned.
Someone crying near the counter.
Damien ignored all of it and checked Bello anyway.
Nothing.
The man’s eyes stared blankly upward.
Dead.
Amara felt sick.
“He was trying to help us.”
Damien’s gaze remained fixed on the body.
No emotion on his face now.
Only calculation.
Only rage held tightly under control.
“He knew too much,” Jonah said grimly.
“Yes,” Damien replied quietly.
Amara looked at him.
“You think this really came from your family?”
He turned slowly toward her.
And for the first time since she had known him, she saw something dangerous behind his eyes.
Not power.
Not control.
Hatred.
“If someone inside my family ordered that attack,” he said softly, “then this never ended five years ago.”
- Writer
