Chapter Nine
1767 Words
Genevieve's POV
STOP LOOKING FOR ROOM SEVENTEEN.
I stared at Damien's phone.
Then the second message appeared.
OR GENEVIÈVE WILL BECOME NUMBER TEN.
For several seconds, nobody moved.
The words seemed to hang in the room.
Number ten? I whispered.
Damien locked his phone.
Genevieve, No.
I stepped closer.
“Don't tell me to stay calm.”
I wasn't going to.
Good.
My voice shook despite my attempt to control it.
“You said seven people disappeared from Blackwater. Then you told me your brother was one of them. You said my father was number nine.”
Damien nodded.
“And now someone is calling me number ten.”
“Yes.”
I stared at him.
“Who is doing this?”
“If I knew, they wouldn't still be sending messages.”
“Then what do you know?”
He didn't answer.
I folded my arms.
“You're doing it again.”
“Doing what?”
“Deciding what I can handle.”
His expression hardened.
“This isn't about what you can handle.”
“Then what is it about?”
“Keeping you alive.”
I laughed bitterly.
“Apparently I'm not doing a very good job of that.”
Damien stepped closer.
“You're not taking this seriously.”
“I am taking it seriously.”
“No. You're angry.”
“Of course I'm angry.”
My voice rose.
“My father died. Someone lied to me about how he died. I've discovered that he was investigating a place where people disappear, and now someone is threatening me because I want answers.”
I pointed toward his phone.
“And you're standing there acting as though you can fix everything.”
His jaw tightened.
“I never said I could fix everything.”
“You act like it.”
He looked away.
For the first time, I noticed something beneath his usual control.
Fear.
Not for himself.
For me.
That realization made me quieter.
“What happened to your brother?”
Damien's expression changed.
His eyes moved toward the window.
“His name was Lucien.”
I waited.
“He was three years older than me.”
“Were you close?”
“Yes.”
The answer came without hesitation.
“We were different, but we understood each other.”
A faint smile appeared on his face.
It disappeared almost immediately.
“He was the reckless one. I was the one who followed rules.”
I couldn't imagine Damien as someone who followed anyone's rules.
“What happened?”
“Lucien discovered Blackwater.”
“How?”
“My father had old records. Lucien found them.”
“Did he go there alone?”
“No.”
Damien's voice became quieter.
“He went with someone.”
“Who?”
“A woman named Mara.”
I waited for more.
“She was my brother's closest friend.”
“And what happened to her?”
“She disappeared too.”
My stomach tightened.
“Was she number eight?”
“Yes.”
“And Lucien was number seven?”
“No.”
Damien looked at me.
“Lucien was number eight.”
I frowned.
“Then who was number seven?”
“A man named Victor Hale.”
“Who was number six?”
“My father's former business partner.”
The names began forming a pattern in my mind.
People connected to the Devereaux family.
People who knew about Blackwater.
People who had disappeared.
“Then my father was number nine.”
“Yes.”
“And nobody found any of them?”
“We found Victor.”
“Alive?”
“No.”
I swallowed.
“What did they find?”
Damien's face became distant.
“His car.”
“That's all?”
“His car and his watch.”
A cold shiver passed through me.
“What about Lucien?”
“Nothing.”
“And Mara?”
“Nothing.”
I looked toward the photograph on the desk.
“Then how do you know they went to Blackwater?”
“Because Lucien left a note.”
“What did it say?”
Damien hesitated.
“Room seventeen.”
My heart skipped.
The same number.
The same room that supposedly didn't exist.
“Where is the note?”
“Destroyed.”
“Why?”
“Because my father ordered me to burn it.”
“Did you?”
“Yes.”
I stared at him.
“You obeyed him?”
“I was twenty-four.”
“And now?”
“Now I know better.”
There was something painful in his voice.
I looked down.
“Do you regret it?”
“Yes.”
The honesty surprised me.
Before I could say anything, Elias entered.
“Damien.”
He stopped when he saw us.
“What happened?”
Elias held up a tablet.
“We recovered part of the recording.”
Damien immediately turned toward him.
“How much?”
“About six minutes.”
“Play it.”
Elias connected the tablet to the screen.
Static filled the room.
Then voices.
My own.
Damien's.
The conversation we'd had earlier.
Someone had been listening.
My skin crawled.
Then the recording jumped.
A different voice appeared.
Male.
Distorted.
“She's asking the right questions.”
I looked at Damien.
The voice continued.
“She's closer than her father ever was.”
Damien's expression darkened.
“Can you clean up the audio?”
“I'm working on it.”
The recording continued.
“She'll find seventeen.”
A pause.
“Unless he stops her.”
I felt my chest tighten.
Then another voice.
This one sounded female.
Soft.
Almost familiar.
“He won't.”
The recording ended.
Silence.
I looked at Elias.
“Who was that woman?”
“We don't know.”
I looked at Damien.
“You recognize her.”
He didn't answer.
“Damien.”
His eyes remained on the blank screen.
“I've heard that voice before.”
“Where?”
He slowly turned toward me.
“Four years ago.”
My heart sank.
“Where?”
“At your father's funeral.”
I stared at him.
“What?”
“There was a woman there.”
“Who?”
“I don't know.”
“Then how can you recognize her voice?”
“Because she spoke to me.”
“What did she say?”
Damien's expression became grim.
“She told me Julian Moreau wasn't dead because of what he discovered.”
I waited.
“Then why?”
He looked directly at me.
“Because of what he refused to give them.”
The room seemed to become colder.
“What did my father have?”
“We don't know.”
“You said there was a ledger.”
“There was.”
“Did he have it?”
“We think so.”
“Where is it?”
Damien shook his head.
“That's what everyone has been searching for.”
I thought about the lighter.
The number seventeen.
The photograph.
My father's warning.
“Maybe the answer isn't at Blackwater.”
Damien looked at me.
“Maybe my father hid it somewhere else.”
Elias nodded slowly.
“That would explain why they haven't found it.”
I looked at the photograph of my childhood home.
Then something clicked.
The old notebook.
My father's study.
The number seventeen.
“Wait.”
Damien watched me.
“I remember something.”
“What?”
“My father had a locked drawer in his study.”
“Could it still be there?”
“I don't know.”
“Where's the key?”
I shook my head.
“There wasn't one.”
Damien studied me.
“Then maybe it wasn't meant to be opened with a key.”
The thought sent a strange excitement through me.
For the first time, I wasn't simply reacting to someone else's threats.
I had a direction.
A place to search.
My father's study.
But Damien suddenly grabbed my wrist.
“No.”
I looked at him.
“No?”
“You're not going back there.”
“Why?”
“Because that's exactly where they'll expect you to go.”
“I don't care.”
“I do.”
His grip loosened.
His voice dropped.
“If they believe your father left something there, the house will be watched.”
“Then we'll go when they aren't watching.”
“We?”
“Yes.”
He stared at me.
“You're not getting rid of me.”
A faint, reluctant smile touched his lips.
“Apparently not.”
For one brief moment, the tension in the room disappeared.
Then Elias's phone rang.
He answered.
His expression changed almost immediately.
“What?”
He listened.
Then looked at Damien.
“We found something.”
“What?”
“The eastern guard.”
Damien straightened.
“Alive?”
Elias hesitated.
“Yes.”
Relief rushed through me.
“Where?”
“In the old greenhouse.”
Damien grabbed his jacket.
“Take me to him.”
Elias didn't move.
“There's a problem.”
“What?”
“The guard isn't alone.”
Damien's expression hardened.
“Who is with him?”
Elias looked at me.
“Eleanor.”
My blood ran cold.
“The woman who disappeared?”
Elias nodded.
“And she's asking for Genevieve.”
Damien's eyes met mine.
I didn't know what Eleanor wanted.
But I knew one thing.
She had warned me about the room.
She had disappeared after someone entered the estate.
And now she was waiting for me in the greenhouse.
I looked at Damien.
“I'm going.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“Genevieve”
“If Eleanor knows something about my father, I'm hearing it from her.”
Damien stared at me.
Then, reluctantly, he nodded.
“Stay beside me.”
We followed Elias through the dark corridor.
As we approached the greenhouse, I could see a faint light glowing through the glass.
The door was slightly open.
Elias reached for his weapon.
Damien raised a hand, stopping him.
Then we heard Eleanor's voice from inside.
“Genevieve…”
I stepped closer.
“I'm here.”
Silence.
Then Eleanor whispered:
“Your father didn't die at the lighthouse.”
I froze.
Damien looked at me.
Eleanor continued.
“He died three days later.”
My heart stopped.
Three days.
The photograph.
The date.
Everything suddenly changed.
And then she said the words that shattered the last piece of certainty I had left.
“I was there when they took him.”
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