Bella's POV
Cold water hits my face like a slap.
I gasp awake, choking and disoriented. My wrists are tied to a chair. My head pounds from whatever drugs they gave me.
"Welcome back, Detective." Victor Crowe stands in front of me, holding an empty bucket. "I was starting to think I gave you too much sedative."
I look around frantically. We're in some kind of basement—concrete walls, no windows, one door. Damien is tied to a chair across from me, his face swollen and bloody. He's conscious but barely.
"Luis?" I croak out. "Where's Luis?"
"Your partner?" Victor gestures to the corner.
Luis sits slumped against the wall, also tied up. But something's wrong. He's not struggling. Not fighting. He's just... watching. Like this is a show and he's the audience.
"Luis, are you okay?" I call to him.
He doesn't answer. Just stares at me with an expression I've never seen before. Cold. Calculating. Almost amused.
My blood runs cold. "No. No, it can't be—"
"Clever girl." Victor laughs. "You're finally figuring it out."
"Luis is working with you?" I can't breathe. "My partner? My friend? The man who saved my life?"
"Actually," Luis speaks for the first time, his voice different—sharper, colder, "I never saved your life, Bella. I was there to make sure you survived. There's a difference."
He stands up, and I realize his ropes were never actually tied. He walks over to Victor and stands beside him like they're partners.
"You've been watching me," I whisper. "For five years. Reporting back to—"
"To me," Victor finishes. "Luis—or should I say, Agent Morrison—has been my eyes and ears in the police department. Making sure you stayed safe. Making sure you became exactly what we needed you to become."
My mind spins. "What do you mean, what you needed?"
"Bait." Victor pulls out his knife. "For five years, we've known Elias Crowe was alive. We've been hunting him. But he's smart—he hid well. Until you came along."
"I don't understand—"
"Elias is obsessed with you," Victor explains, like he's talking about the weather. "Has been since that day in the hospital. We knew if we started killing the people who hurt you, he'd reveal himself. He'd try to protect you. And here we are."
Everything clicks into place. The murders. The pattern. The timing.
"You're killing those people," I breathe. "Not Elias. Not Damien. You."
"Gold star for the detective." Victor grins. "I've been eliminating your enemies one by one, carving my old signature mark, leaving clues that point to both my nephews. Elias will think Damien's the killer. Damien will think it's Elias. And you? You won't know who to trust."
"Why?" Damien rasps from his chair. "Why are you doing this?"
"Because you two idiots are standing in the way of my empire!" Victor's smile vanishes. "Your father was going to expose our family business fifteen years ago. So I killed him. Problem solved. But then you, Damien, started your own investigation. And Elias refused to die like the doctors predicted. You're both thorns in my side that need to be removed."
"So you're using me to draw them out," I say. "Kill all three of us at once."
"Exactly. And it's working perfectly." Victor checks his watch. "Elias will be here in approximately fifteen minutes. He's been tracking you through—well, Agent Morrison, why don't you explain?"
Luis—Agent Morrison—pulls out a small device. "I put a tracker in your phone three years ago. Elias has been monitoring it. Right now, he thinks you're in danger. He's coming to save you."
Betrayal burns through my chest like acid. "You son of a—"
"Save the dramatics." Victor presses the knife against my throat. "Here's what's going to happen. Elias will arrive. He'll try to save you. My men will kill him. Then I'll kill you while Damien watches. Then I'll kill Damien. Clean sweep. No more witnesses to my crimes."
"You won't get away with this," Damien says weakly. "People will investigate—"
"Please. I own half the police force." Victor laughs. "Detective Hartley was killed by the serial killer she was hunting. So tragic. So heroic. The city will probably name a school after you."
He trails the knife down my cheek. I don't flinch. I won't give him the satisfaction.
"Any last words, Detective?"
I look at Damien. Our eyes meet across the room. He mouths "I'm sorry" again.
But I'm not looking at him with fear or anger anymore.
I'm looking at him with a plan.
Because Victor made one crucial mistake. When Luis—Agent Morrison—revealed himself, he dropped his guard. And I've been slowly working my wrists free from the ropes this whole time.
"Yes," I say to Victor. "I have last words."
"Make them count."
I smile slightly. "You talk too much."
My hands slip free. I grab Victor's wrist, twisting the knife away. He shouts in surprise as I slam my head into his nose. Blood explodes.
I roll backward out of the chair, grabbing the knife as it falls. Agent Morrison draws his gun, but I'm faster. I throw the knife.
It buries itself in his shoulder. He screams and drops the weapon.
I dive for it, but Victor kicks me hard in the ribs. Pain explodes through my side. I roll with the impact and come up swinging.
We fight viciously. Victor is stronger, but I'm younger, faster, angrier. Five years of rage pours out of me in every punch, every kick.
"You destroyed my life!" I scream, slamming his head into the wall. "You killed innocent people! You're a monster!"
"And you're a naive little girl!" He grabs my throat, squeezing. "You think you can stop me? I've been killing for twenty years!"
My vision goes dark at the edges. I can't breathe. Can't think.
Then I remember. My backup gun. Still in my ankle holster.
I reach down with my last bit of strength and pull it free.
I press the barrel under Victor's chin and pull the trigger.
The gunshot echoes like thunder.
Victor's grip loosens. He falls backward, dead before he hits the ground.
I collapse, gasping for air. My hands shake violently. I just killed someone. I just—
"Bella!" Damien shouts. "Behind you!"
I spin around.
Agent Morrison has recovered his gun. He aims it at me, his face twisted with pain and rage.
"You just killed my boss," he snarls. "You're dead—"
Another gunshot.
Morrison jerks forward and falls, revealing someone standing in the doorway behind him.
My heart stops.
It's a man I've never seen before—tall, lean, with gray eyes and dark hair. He looks like Damien but younger, wilder. More dangerous.
Elias Crowe.
He's holding a smoking gun, and he's staring at me like I'm the only thing in the world that matters.
"Hello, Bella," he says softly. "I've been waiting five years to meet you properly."
He steps over Morrison's body and walks toward me. I should run. Should scream. Should do something.
But I can't move. Can't speak.
He reaches me and gently touches my face, like I'm something precious he's afraid to break.
"You're even more beautiful than I remembered," he whispers.
"Elias," Damien calls weakly from his chair. "Brother, please—"
"Quiet." Elias doesn't look away from me. "I'm talking to my savior."
"Your savior?" I find my voice. "I didn't save you. I just read you a story—"
"You gave me a reason to live." His thumb brushes my cheek. "Every day for five years, I fought to survive. I endured experimental treatments, surgeries, pain you can't imagine. All so I could become strong enough to protect you. To give you justice. To make everyone who hurt you pay."
Oh God. He really is obsessed.
"Elias, you need help—"
"I need you." His grip on my face tightens. "I've killed six people for you, Bella. Your enemies. The ones who destroyed you. Doesn't that prove my love?"
"You... what?" My blood turns to ice. "You killed them? Not Victor?"
"Victor?" Elias laughs. "Please. That coward couldn't kill anyone without his hired thugs. No, I did it. Jeremy Walsh, Patricia Moore, and four others. All people who hurt you. All people who deserved to die."
"But the evidence pointed to Victor—"
"Because I wanted it to." Elias smiles, and it's beautiful and terrifying at the same time. "I framed my uncle. Made everyone think he was the killer. And now that he's dead by your hand, you've eliminated my last obstacle. We're free, Bella. Free to be together."
"I'm not going to be with you!" I try to pull away, but his grip is iron. "You're a murderer!"
"I'm your protector!" His eyes flash with anger. "Everything I've done, I did for you! To avenge you! To love you!"
"That's not love—"
"Then what is it?!" He shakes me slightly. "I spent five years becoming worthy of you! I killed the monsters who hurt you! I watched over you every single day! If that's not love, then what—"
"It's obsession," Damien says from his chair. "Elias, listen to me. You need help. We can get you help—"
"I don't want help." Elias releases me and walks to his brother. "I want her. And you're not going to stop me."
He raises his gun, pointing it at Damien's head.
"No!" I scream. "Don't! Please!"
"Why not?" Elias looks at me curiously. "He used you. He admitted it. He let you suffer so he could catch our uncle. Why do you care if he dies?"
"Because killing him makes you just like Victor!" Tears pour down my face. "Please, Elias. If you really love me, you won't do this."
He hesitates. The gun wavers.
"If I let him live," Elias says slowly, "will you come with me? Leave this life behind? Be mine?"
My choice is simple and impossible: Save Damien's life by becoming Elias's prisoner, or let Damien die and try to escape.
I look at Damien. He's shaking his head, mouthing "no." He doesn't want me to sacrifice myself.
But I've spent five years learning to survive. And I know one thing for certain:
The only way out of this is to lie.
"Yes," I tell Elias. "I'll come with you. Just please, don't kill your brother."
Elias's face lights up like a child on Christmas morning. He lowers the gun.
"Really? You mean it?"
"I mean it." I force myself to smile. "But first, we need to leave. The police will be coming. We need to disappear together."
"Together," he breathes. "Yes. Okay. Let's go."
He grabs my hand, pulling me toward the door. I look back at Damien one last time.
He mouths two words: "I'm sorry."
I mouth back: "Find me."
Then Elias pulls me out into the night, and I become the prisoner of a man who killed six people because he thinks he loves me.
Behind us, in the basement, Damien struggles against his ropes with renewed desperation.
Because he just realized something I haven't yet:
If Elias killed six people... but the note said "one down, eleven to go"...
That means there are six more people on Elias's list.
And based on the pattern, Bella knows every single one of them.
Including her father.
Her step-sister Vivian.
And Marcus—her ex-fiancé who started all of this.
The killing isn't over.
It's only just begun.