Page 25 of Secrets Of Blackwood

But Victoria is a master at weaving her web of deceit, and she turns her attention to Lily, a predator sizing up its prey. “Oh, Lily, dear, I was just reminding Damien of old times. You know, the wild parties, the reckless fights… the kind of past that haunts a man.”

Lily’s gaze flickers with uncertainty, a frown marring her usually serene face. “Damien?” she asks again, this time a hint of suspicion creeping into her voice. “Is there something I should know?”

“Absolutely not,” I say quickly, too quickly perhaps. I can see the seeds of doubt taking root in Lily’s mind, sown by Victoria’s insidious implications.

Victoria laughs softly, a sound devoid of any true amusement. “Come now, Damien. Everyone has skeletons in their closet. It’s just a matter of time before they come knocking, isn’t it?”

I clench my jaw, fighting the urge to throttle her for playing this twisted game. For a moment, I see the flicker of insecurity behind her cold facade, the fear that drives her to control and destroy. But it’s gone as quickly as it appeared, masked once again by her tranquil exterior.

“Stay out of my life, Victoria,” I warn her through gritted teeth.

“Too late for that, darling,” she replies, unfazed. “I’m already woven into the fabric of your story. And I’m quite enjoying the view.”

Ignoring her taunt, I take Lily’s hand, desperate to lead her away from this poisonous atmosphere. But as we leave, I can feel Victoria’s smug stare on my back, and the weight of her words heavy in the air between us.

3 - 4

The world narrows to the sound of Lily’s footsteps behind me, each one a heavy echo in the corridor of my mind. I push through the door into the night, a cold breeze slapping against my skin, a temporary balm for the heat of Victoria’s insidious words.

“Damien, wait!” Her voice is a tether, trying to keep me anchored to a place I can no longer stand.

I don’t stop, don’t look back. If I do, she’ll see it—the chaos clawing at the edges of my control. I can’t let her get caught in this storm that’s brewing inside me, a tempest of rage and fear whipped up by Victoria’s cruel game.

“Damien?” The confusion in Lily’s tone stabs at me, but I keep moving, distancing myself from her light, from the possibility of tainting her with my darkness. I’ve become a shadow amongst shadows, shrinking away from the touch of anyone who dares to care.

***

Lily

I trail after Damien, my heart pounding in my chest. His silhouette cuts a sharp figure against the dim lights of the city, his stride long and determined. I’ve never seen him like this—so cold, so distant.

“Damien, please,” I plead as I finally catch up to him. He pauses, and for a moment, I think I’ve reached him. But when he turns, there’s a wall in his eyes, impenetrable and chilling.

“Go home, Lily. It’s not safe,” he murmurs, and the finality in his voice sends shivers down my spine. I reach out, my fingers brushing the sleeve of his jacket, seeking some connection, some warmth from the man I thought I knew.

“Talk to me. Please. I don’t understand what’s happening. You’re scaring me.” My voice cracks, betraying the hurt that’s welling up inside me.

He takes a step back, and I can almost feel the physical barrier he’s erecting between us. “You shouldn’t be scared of me,” he says, but there’s something unsaid lingering in the air, a secret that screams louder than his words.

“Damien, whatever it is, we can face it together. Don’t shut me out.” I’m begging now, desperate for him to see that I’m here for him, that nothing could make me turn away.

But he just shakes his head, a tortured expression flitting across his face before it’s masked once again by stoicism. “You don’t know what you’re asking for, Lily.”

And then he’s gone, disappearing into the night, leaving me alone with a thousand questions and the haunting feeling that our love is hanging by a thread—one that Victoria is all too eager to sever.

5 - 6

The hollow echo of my footsteps on the marble floor is a stark reminder of the emptiness inside me. My heart races, a frantic rhythm matching the anxiety that courses through my veins as I near Victoria’s lair—a modern penthouse with windows revealing the city’s glittering lights below, so similar to Damien’s own taste, I can’t help but wonder if she did it on purpose.

“Damien,” her voice is like silk, smooth and cold as it wraps around us both. She sits perched on the edge of an obsidian coffee table, manicured fingers tracing the rim of a wine glass filled with crimson liquid. Her eyes, sharp and calculating, never leave his face.

I watch him, this man who’s become my world, now standing across from her, rigid and tense. The shadows playing across his chiseled features make him look more like a statue than a man—a beautiful, tormented statue.

“Victoria,” he says, his voice low and controlled, though I see the muscle in his jaw twitch. “What do you want?”

“Want?” She tilts her head, raven hair cascading over one shoulder. “I merely wish to talk. It’s been too long since we’ve shared… confidences.”

His gray eyes narrow. “We have nothing to discuss.”

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