Aria's POV
I grabbed my phone off the table so fast I knocked over my coffee.
"They took a picture of my daughter." My voice didn't sound like mine—it was high and panicked and broken. "They were watching her. They were right there—"
"Aria, breathe." Damien was around the table in seconds, crouching beside my chair. "Sophie's with her. She's safe. Nobody's going to hurt Lily."
"You don't know that!" I shoved the phone in his face. "Look! They're threatening her! They want me to meet them at midnight or they'll—they'll—"
"They won't do anything." His voice was absolutely certain. "This is a scare tactic. They want you frightened and desperate so you'll do something stupid."
"Like go to Pinehaven Cliffs alone?"
"Exactly like that." He took the phone from my shaking hands and studied the photo carefully. "This was taken today. Around three o'clock, judging by the shadows. Which means whoever sent this has been following Sophie's routine. They know what time she picks up Lily."
The thought made me want to vomit. "How do you know all that?"
"Because I've been tracking Marcus's movements for three years. I know how men like him operate." He zoomed in on the background of the photo. "See that van? White, no plates visible. That's a surveillance vehicle. Someone's been watching you for a while."
My whole body went cold. "Marcus?"
"Maybe. Or maybe someone working for him." Damien's jaw clenched. "Or maybe someone else entirely."
"What does that mean?"
He handed back my phone and pulled out his own, scrolling through what looked like hundreds of photos. He stopped on one and showed it to me.
It was Kira—or the woman who looked like Kira—getting into Marcus's car. But in this photo, I could see her face clearly.
And she looked terrified.
"I took this six months ago," Damien said quietly. "I've been following Marcus, trying to build a case against him. When I saw her with him, I thought I was losing my mind. But I ran facial recognition software. It's her, Aria. It's really Kira."
The café spun around me. "That's impossible. We buried her. I saw her body—"
"Did you?" He leaned closer, his silver eyes intense. "Or did you see a closed casket that Marcus insisted shouldn't be opened because of the fire damage?"
Oh God.
Oh God, he was right.
I'd never actually seen Kira's body. Marcus had handled all the funeral arrangements. He'd told me it would be too traumatic for me to see her burned remains. He'd held me while I cried and promised to take care of everything.
What if it had all been a lie?
"Why would he fake her death?" I whispered.
"That's what I've been trying to figure out." Damien pulled out a folder from his bag—he'd brought a folder to our coffee date like he'd been expecting this conversation. "Kira called me at 11:47 PM on March 15th, five years ago. I was at college, three hours away. She was crying, barely making sense. She said she'd found financial records proving Marcus was embezzling from his company. She was going to show you the next morning and then you'd both go to the police."
He showed me a screenshot of the call log from his old phone. There it was: Kira's number, 11:47 PM, and duration 8 minutes 34 seconds.
"The fire started at 2:30 AM," he continued. "By the time I drove back to Millbrook, Kira was dead and you were in the hospital. Marcus told everyone you'd had a breakdown from the grief."
My hands pressed against my temples. Fragments of memory flickered like a broken film—Marcus's face, angry. Kira shouting. Something bitter on my tongue. Everything going dark.
"I don't remember that night," I said. "I don't remember anything after 8 PM. Marcus said I took sleeping pills because I was stressed about work."
"Or he drugged you." Damien's voice went deadly quiet. "And then he staged Kira's death, made everyone believe she was gone, and kept you so traumatized and confused that you'd never ask the right questions."
"But why keep her alive? Why not just—" I couldn't finish the sentence.
"Because dead people can't tell you where they hid evidence." He pulled out another photo. This one showed Kira with visible bruises on her arms. "I think he's been holding her somewhere. Using her. Maybe threatening to hurt her family if she talks. Maybe she finally found a way to reach out to you."
My phone buzzed again.
Another message: "You have nine hours. Come alone or everyone learns what you did. The fire. The screaming. The matches in your hand. Remember, Aria?"
I stared at the words until they blurred.
Matches in my hand?
"That's not true," I breathed. "I would never—I didn't start that fire. I couldn't have—"
"Of course you didn't." Damien's hand was steady on my shoulder. "But Marcus has spent five years making you doubt your own mind. Making you think you're unstable, unreliable, and capable of terrible things. That's what abusers do, Aria. They rewrite your reality until you can't trust yourself anymore."
Tears burned down my face. "What if they're right? What if I really did something terrible and I just can't remember?"
"Then we find out the truth together." He tilted my chin up, forcing me to look at him. "I have security cameras, recording equipment, and backup. We go to Pinehaven Cliffs tonight, but we do it smart. We record everything. We get Kira to safety. And we end this."
"You keep saying 'we.' Why are you helping me?"
Something vulnerable flashed across his face. "Because I loved you, Aria. I loved you when we were seventeen and stupid and thought we'd be together forever. And then I left like a coward when you needed me most." His voice roughened. "I'm not making that mistake again."
Before I could respond, his phone rang. He glanced at the screen and his expression darkened.
"It's my brother James. He's been investigating Marcus's properties." He answered, putting it on speaker. "What did you find?"
"You need to get Aria somewhere safe right now." James's voice was urgent. "I pulled Marcus's bank records. He's been making payments to Pinehaven Psychiatric Facility for five years. Monthly deposits of ten thousand dollars."
My blood turned to ice. "What's Pinehaven Psychiatric?"
"A private institution for long-term patients," James said. "Guess who's been a patient there under a false name for the past five years?"
I already knew the answer.
"Kira Walsh," Damien finished. "He's been keeping her locked up."
"There's more," James said. "I hacked their visitor logs. Marcus visits her every week. But three days ago, she escaped. Security footage shows her running into the woods. They never found her."
The pieces clicked into place with horrible clarity. Kira had escaped. She'd been sending me messages, trying to tell me the truth. And now someone—Marcus or whoever was working for him—was using her to lure me to Pinehaven Cliffs.
"It's a trap," I whispered.
"Obviously." Damien was already standing, pulling me to my feet. "Which is why we're not going alone."
My phone buzzed one more time.
A video this time.
I pressed play with shaking hands.
The footage was dark and grainy, but I could make out a small room. And in that room, tied to a chair, was Sophie.
My best friend. The woman who'd watched Lily today. Blood trickled from her temple.
Kira's voice came from off-camera: "Midnight, Aria. Just you. Or Sophie dies the way I was supposed to."
The video ended.
I looked up at Damien, and the expression on his face was terrifying—cold, calculating, absolutely lethal.
"Change of plans," he said quietly. "We're going to Pinehaven Cliffs. We're getting your friend back. And then I'm going to destroy everyone who thought they could hurt you."
He made a call, speaking in rapid-fire commands to someone named James about equipment and backup locations.
But all I could think about was Sophie's terrified face and Kira's hollow voice and the nine hours I had left before midnight.
And the question that wouldn't stop echoing in my head: If Kira was the victim, why did she sound like the villain?