A Night With Mr. Woods

CHAPTER 13

The folder lay on the cold floor between us like it carried the weight of the world. My wrists burned from the rope, my body aching from the rough concrete, but none of that mattered. All I could see were the pages spilling out with my father’s handwriting, his name glaring back at me.

“Don’t look at it yet,” Damian said firmly, his voice steady even though the tension in his jaw betrayed him.

I dragged my eyes away from the folder to his face. His gaze was fixed on me, protective but sharp. “Why not? That could have the answers. About him. About why all this is happening.”

“Because it’s bait,” he replied without hesitation. “They left it here for a reason. To distract you. To make you break before you even know what you’re up against.”

The ropes dug into my wrists as I shifted closer, my fingers aching to reach for the documents. “I need to know, Damian. If this is about my father, then I deserve to know the truth.”

He leaned closer, lowering his voice. “You deserve to live first. We are not going to die in this basement because of their games.”

The words settled heavy in my chest. He was right, but the temptation was unbearable. For years, I had lived with unanswered questions about my father’s death. Now the answers were right in front of me, and I was tied, helpless, as if the past itself was mocking me.

The silence stretched, filled only by the buzzing of the flickering light above. I swallowed hard. “Then how do we get out?”

Damian’s eyes scanned the room, sharp and calculating. He tugged against the rope around his wrists, testing the knots. “They were sloppy,” he murmured. “Confident. That means they don’t think we’ll try.”

I tried twisting my wrists, but the rope cut deeper, biting into my skin. I winced. “Sloppy isn’t the word I’d use,” I whispered bitterly. “They tied me like they wanted me to bleed.”

His eyes snapped back to me, and for a brief second his fierce mask cracked. Concern softened the edge of his voice. “Are you hurt?”

“Just my pride,” I said, though the sting on my wrists told another story.

Damian shifted closer until his knees brushed mine. He turned his back toward me. “The knots are tighter on me. Try to untie them with your fingers.”

I hesitated. “What if they come back?”

“Then I’ll protect you,” he said simply, as if it were the most obvious truth in the world.

My breath caught at the certainty in his tone. I pushed the feeling aside and focused, twisting my fingers against the rope around his wrists. The fibers were rough, frayed, cutting into my skin, but slowly I began to loosen the knot.

“Good,” Damian murmured. “Keep going.”

Minutes passed like hours. My fingers slipped, my shoulders ached, but I refused to stop. Finally, with one sharp tug, the rope gave way. Damian’s hands fell free. Relief surged through me.

“You did it,” I whispered, my chest rising and falling too fast.

His eyes flicked to mine. “Now hold still.”

In one swift motion, he untied my wrists. The rope slid away, leaving angry red marks on my skin. I rubbed them, trying to ease the sting. For the first time since waking up here, I could breathe.

But the freedom was short-lived. The folder was still on the ground, its pages splayed open like a wound.

“Damian…” I whispered. “What if there’s something in there that helps us? Something we need to know?”

He hesitated this time, his jaw tightening. Then, with a controlled movement, he picked up the folder. He didn’t open it, only tucked it under his arm. “If there is, we’ll read it when we’re safe. Not before.”

Before I could argue, footsteps echoed outside the door. My heart leapt into my throat. Damian pressed a finger to his lips, motioning for silence.

The door creaked. Light spilled in again.

Kira stepped inside, her smile sharp and smug. Behind her was the stranger, his towering frame casting shadows across the floor.

“Well, isn’t this sweet?” Kira’s voice was honeyed poison. “Our captives cozying up in the dark.”

Damian’s body shifted subtly in front of me, protective. “Let her go,” he said, his voice cold.

Kira laughed softly. “Still pretending you’re in control? That’s adorable.”

The stranger’s gaze landed on the folder tucked under Damian’s arm. His expression didn’t change, but the weight of his attention was suffocating. “I see you’ve found it.”

“You mean the bait,” Damian replied flatly.

The man tilted his head. “Call it what you want. The truth has a way of pulling people in, whether they’re ready or not.” His eyes slid to me, piercing and calm. “Especially her.”

I clenched my fists, forcing myself to meet his stare. “You keep talking about the truth. Then why not tell me what it is instead of playing games?”

For a moment, silence stretched. Then he stepped closer, his presence overwhelming. “Because some truths destroy the people who seek them. Do you want that, Allison? To be destroyed by the same secrets that killed your father?”

The words hit like a blow. My knees weakened, but Damian’s hand brushed mine, steadying me.

“Enough,” Damian snapped. “You’ve had your fun. What do you really want?”

The man’s eyes hardened. “I want her to stay away from the estate. If she doesn’t, there will be consequences she cannot escape.”

Kira smirked. “And trust me, Allison, I would love to watch you learn that the hard way.”

Heat flared in my chest, anger boiling over fear. “You think you can scare me into silence? My father didn’t die for me to live afraid.”

The stranger’s gaze darkened, and for the first time, I thought I saw a flicker of something human in his expression. Regret? Pain? It vanished as quickly as it came.

He turned to Kira. “We’re done here.”

“No,” Damian cut in, his voice sharp as steel. “We’re not finished until you tell me who you are.”

The man stopped at the doorway. Slowly, he turned back, his eyes locking on Damian’s. The silence that followed was so heavy it felt like the air itself had stilled.

Then he spoke, his words low, deliberate, and devastating.

“I am your uncle.”

The room spun. My breath caught, and Damian went completely still beside me.

Kira’s smile widened as if she had been waiting for this moment. “Surprise.”

The man’s gaze flicked once more to me. “And Allison… your father knew me well.”

The door slammed shut, leaving the echo of his revelation hanging in the air.

I staggered back, my body trembling. “Damian… he’s your uncle?”

His fists clenched at his sides, his eyes burning with something I had never seen before. “Not just my uncle. He was supposed to be dead.”

My mind reeled. The folder. My father. Damian’s family. The tangled web pulling us deeper with every step.

I looked at the folder still under his arm, and for the first time, I was terrified to open it.

Because the truth was no longer just about my father. It was about Damian too.

And the secrets connecting us might destroy us both.