Chapter 6
"Vanessa, you need to see this."
Miles stood in the doorway of her apartment, pale and serious, laptop in hand. No brotherly sarcasm. No techy ramble. Just urgency.
She let him in, heart thudding. He never showed up unannounced.
He set the laptop on her kitchen table, opened it, and hit play.
A security camera video flickered to life. Grainy. But clear enough.
Negan Simmons at nineteen. Covered in blood. Breathing hard over a boy's broken body. Declan Ryder. Vanessa's cousin.
Vanessa gasped.
Miles said quietly, "There's more. Your name… was in a hidden case file. With Camille's digital signature on the retrieval."
Vanessa staggered back. "What do you mean?"
"I mean she's known this. All of it. For years."
CAMILLE – Secrets Rot from the Inside
Camille's apartment buzzed when Vanessa arrived, but she didn't wait. She kicked the door open.
Camille was curled on her white couch in silk, drink in hand, eyes red-rimmed. She didn't flinch.
"I didn't want it to happen like this," Camille murmured.
"You set me up."
"I protected you," she said, standing now. "Vanessa, he would've come for you either way. I just... I thought if you saw him on my terms, if you felt it first, maybe he wouldn't destroy you."
"You've been watching me," Vanessa snapped. "Since before I even met him."
Camille's voice cracked. "He made me promise. Said I owed him. And I do. I owed him everything."
"You're in love with him," Vanessa said coldly.
Camille looked away.
Then whispered, "But he only ever wanted you."
NEGAN – Dinner as a Trap
The invitation came in the form of a single white rose and a note:
"You deserve answers. Come hungry. –N"
Against all reason, Vanessa went.
Negan greeted her at the private rooftop suite wearing black. Candlelight danced on the table. Champagne chilled in crystal.
"Hungry?" he asked, eyes devouring her.
"Starving," she lied.
Dinner was exquisite—steak, oysters, strawberries dipped in molten chocolate. But every bite tasted like control.
"You're very good at pretending you don't enjoy this," he said, pouring her wine. "The danger. The obsession. Me."
Vanessa kept her face still. "You murdered Declan Ryder."
His fork paused. A beat. Then he smiled softly.
"Did I?"
"You were there. Covered in blood."
"I'm always covered in something," he murmured. "Blood. Guilt. Lust."
He leaned in. "But you're the only stain I want to keep."
Her breath caught.
His eyes were molten.
"You see, Vanessa," he whispered, voice velvet-wrapped poison, "this isn't about what I did. It's about what you want me to do next."
His hand slid across the table, slow, possessive.
And Vanessa…
Didn't move away.