The apartment was quieter than it had been in days, the faint hum of the city outside filtering through the windows. Maya set her clutch on the console by the door and leaned against it, feeling the weight of the evening pressing down on her. Damien moved past her, loosening the cuffs of his shirt as though nothing from the gathering still lingered in his mind. He looked composed, almost too composed, while Maya's thoughts refused to untangle.
She followed him into the living room, where he'd already sunk into the couch, legs stretched out, his expression unreadable in the dim light. She hesitated before sitting across from him, watching him with the cautious curiosity that had been building since Evelyn had walked back into that room earlier, changed.
"Damien," Maya finally said, breaking the silence. Her voice was soft but edged with unease. "What did you say to her?"
He glanced at her, brow lifting just slightly. "To who?"
"You know who," she pressed. "Evelyn."
He didn't answer right away, only tilted his head back against the couch and shut his eyes for a moment as though weighing his response. His silence stretched, and Maya leaned forward, unwilling to let it go.
"She came back… different," she said slowly. "Almost like she was someone else. She stopped Logan's questions. She even stopped her parents. And then..." Maya's throat tightened. "...then she called me Maya. Not Isla. She knows."
Her last words filled the room, heavy and accusing, and Damien finally opened his eyes again. The look he gave her wasn't one of denial, nor was it careless amusement. It was something steadier, something that carried too much knowledge behind it.
Maya folded her arms tightly, pressing him further. "Why would she do that? Why would she change so suddenly after talking to you? You know something, Damien. You know everything. And you're not telling me."
His jaw tightened, a flicker of irritation -- or was it restraint? -- passing across his face. Then, after a long breath, he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, his gaze fixed on her in that way of his that made it impossible to look away.
"You want to know about Evelyn?" he asked.
Maya nodded, the air thickening between them.
He rubbed his palm across his mouth once before speaking. "Evelyn has always been… clever. More than clever. She knows how to read a room, how to turn people without them realizing it's happening. She thrives on control, on making people feel indebted to her or unsettled by her. That's how she wins. Not with force. With precision."
Maya shifted uneasily. "And she used that tonight?"
"She tested you," Damien said. "She wanted to see how you'd react to pressure -- whether you'd bend, or break, or lie cleanly through your teeth. And when she called you Maya, she wasn't slipping. She was warning you."
"Warning me of what?" Maya whispered, her stomach tightening.
"That she sees you," Damien answered. "All of you. And if Evelyn sees you, she'll never let you rest easy again."
Maya felt her heart hammer in her chest. "But… you spoke to her before she changed. What did you say that made her come back like that?"
Damien's eyes held hers for a long, weighted moment. "Some things between siblings don't belong on anyone else's lips," he said at last, his tone flat. "You don't need to know every word. Just know that she listens when she chooses to. And when she chooses to listen, she can be dangerous."
The room seemed to shrink around them. Maya's hands tightened on her knees. "So what am I supposed to do? Pretend I didn't notice? Pretend she didn't call me by my real name?"
Damien leaned back slowly, his gaze never leaving hers. "No," he said quietly. "You don't pretend. You adapt. You play along until you can't. That's the only way with her."
Maya wanted to protest, to push further, but something in his tone stopped her. A finality. A line she wasn't supposed to cross. Yet the silence only fueled her restlessness.
"And what about me?" she asked, her voice breaking slightly. "She knows who I am. If she tells them..."
"She won't," Damien cut in sharply. His certainty was cold and unshakable. "If she wanted to, she already would have. Evelyn doesn't play her cards early. She waits until the stakes are high enough to make it hurt."
Maya dropped her gaze, her chest tightening with unease. His calmness terrified her more than his sister's games.
The conversation lingered there, suspended, until Damien stood, smoothing down his shirt as if brushing off the tension. "You'll have a few days before the event," he said, shifting the subject with a finality that silenced her. "Use them well. Pack what you need. Clear your mind."
Maya looked up, startled. "The event? You mean the one Evelyn mentioned?"
He gave a single nod. "We'll be traveling. Abroad."
Her lips parted, but no words came. Abroad. It was a word heavy with newness, with fear, with reluctant excitement. "You're serious?"
"I don't joke about travel," he said simply, already walking toward his room. "Be ready."
---
The days that followed passed in a haze of preparation. Damien offered her no details -- no exact location, no itinerary -- only the sharp command to be ready. Maya packed and repacked, her nerves building with each folded dress, each zipped compartment.
When the day finally came, the airport itself felt unreal. The sheer size of it, the buzz of people moving in every direction, the sleek glass and endless polished floors -- it made Maya feel small and out of place. But beside Damien, she walked as though she belonged, his steady stride anchoring her.
When they boarded and she was guided past the usual rows, led instead into the plush, secluded world of first class, Maya nearly stopped in her tracks. The wide leather seats, the soft lighting, the space that felt more like a private lounge than a plane -- it was nothing like she'd imagined.
"This… this is first class?" she whispered, sliding into her seat with wide eyes.
Damien's mouth curved faintly, the closest thing to a smile she'd seen since the gathering. "Welcome to the other side of the world, Maya."
She sank into the seat, her fingers brushing the cool armrest, her wonder impossible to hide. "I feel like I shouldn't even be touching anything. This feels like… like a dream."
"Enjoy it," Damien said, his voice low, almost indulgent. "You only get one first time."
As the plane lifted off, Maya pressed her hand against the window, watching the city fall away beneath them. Her stomach fluttered -- not just from the altitude, but from the strange newness of it all, from sitting here beside him, sharing a space that felt so removed from the lives they'd left on the ground.
She glanced at Damien, who sat with his eyes closed, calm as ever. And though she knew the storm with Evelyn was far from over, though fear still coiled in her chest, she allowed herself a moment to breathe, to smile softly at the sky beyond the glass.
Because whatever waited for them abroad -- games, schemes, or dangers -- this was a beginning she would never forget.