He turned toward the rain-smeared window, his reflection fractured by the water streaks.
"If he's behind this, then he's been watching longer than I thought."
Sophia's voice cut through the silence steady, but her fingers fidgeted against her sleeve.
"You mean… he's known where Isabella was all this time?"
Damian's jaw flexed.
"He's known since the day I took her from the estate."
The air turned heavy, suffocating.
Isabella's heartbeat stumbled.
"You knew this could happen?"
she whispered.
He looked at her then a soft regret flickering beneath the steel in his gaze.
"I hoped it wouldn't."
Sophia's brow furrowed.
"So all this time, we've been running from ghosts?"
Luca moved closer, his voice low and calm.
"No.
Ghosts don't shoot at us with assault rifles."
Damian almost smirked at that, but the weariness in his eyes betrayed him.
He moved to the desk, poured himself a drink, and downed it in one motion.
