DAMIEN'S POV
Victoria's text message burns in my mind as I drive away from the café. "I know." Two words that could get Aria killed.
I pull into an abandoned parking garage three blocks away. My hands shake on the steering wheel. In the passenger seat, Aria sits frozen, her face white as paper.
"She was watching us," Aria whispers. "She saw everything."
"We need to move fast." I pull out my phone and delete every message between us. "Delete all our texts. Right now."
Aria's fingers fly across her screen. "What do we do? She threatened me. She said I'll pay like Daniel did."
"We stick to the plan. But we move faster." I turn to face her. "Listen to me carefully. Victoria is dangerous when she feels threatened. If she thinks we're working together, she'll strike before we can gather enough evidence."
"So we what? Give up?"
"No. We make her think she won." My mind races through possibilities. "Tomorrow morning, I'll tell her you came onto me at the café. That I rejected you. That I'm loyal to her."
"Will she believe that?"
"She wants to believe it. Victoria's delusional. She'll accept any lie that fits her fantasy." I grip the steering wheel. "But we can't meet in public anymore. It's too risky."
Aria nods slowly. "Then where?"
I hand her a key. "My apartment. Victoria has keys, but there's a storage room in the basement she doesn't know about. Tomorrow night, nine PM. We'll work there."
She takes the key, and our fingers touch. Even now, with death threats hanging over us, I feel that pull toward her. The connection that scares me because it's real.
"Be careful," I say. "Act normal around Victoria. If she asks about me, tell her I'm a good teacher but boring."
"Okay." Aria opens the car door, then stops. "Damien? Thank you for not giving up on this. On Daniel."
After she leaves, I sit in the dark garage for ten minutes. My phone buzzes constantly. Victoria calling. Victoria texting. Victoria demanding to know where I am.
I finally answer. "Hey, sorry. I was studying at the library."
"Where are you really?" Her voice is sharp. Suspicious.
"Driving home. Why?"
"We need to talk. Come to my apartment. Now."
My stomach drops. "Victoria, it's late—"
"Now, Damien."
She hangs up. I stare at my phone, dread pooling in my gut. This is it. The confrontation I've been avoiding for six months.
Twenty minutes later, I knock on Victoria's door. She opens it wearing a smile that doesn't reach her eyes.
"Come in, baby."
Her apartment smells like vanilla candles and something else. Something chemical I can't place. Victoria's cleaned obsessively—everything is perfectly organized. Too perfect. Like she's preparing for something.
"Sit." She points to the couch.
I sit. My muscles are tense, ready to move if needed. Victoria perches on the coffee table in front of me, so close our knees touch.
"Tell me about Aria Chen," she says sweetly.
"What about her?"
"You were at a café with her today. Holding her hand." Victoria tilts her head. "Want to explain that?"
I keep my face neutral. "She was upset. Crying about some family problem. I was comforting her."
"Really? That's your story?"
"That's the truth."
Victoria studies me for a long moment. Then she laughs—a cold, brittle sound. "You're lying. You think I'm stupid, but I'm not. I know what I saw."
My heart pounds. "Victoria—"
"She came onto you, didn't she?" Victoria's voice turns venomous. "That little transfer student thinks she can steal what's mine. Well, I warned her. I told her to stay away."
I seize the opening. "You're right. She did come onto me. She said she likes me, asked me out. I said no. I told her I'm with you."
Victoria's expression shifts. Hope wars with suspicion in her eyes. "You rejected her?"
"Of course. Why would I want anyone else when I have you?" The lies taste like poison, but I force them out. "She's nothing compared to you."
Victoria launches herself at me, wrapping her arms around my neck. "I knew it! I knew you loved me!" She kisses me hard, and I have to force myself not to pull away. "You're mine, Damien. Forever mine."
"Forever," I echo, and hate myself.
She pulls back, her eyes gleaming. "We should celebrate. I made us drinks." She jumps up and goes to the kitchen.
Every alarm in my body screams danger. I watch Victoria pour two glasses of wine. Her back is turned, and I see her hand move—dropping something into one of the glasses. She stirs it carefully before turning back with a bright smile.
"To us," she says, handing me the drugged wine.
I take it. Pretend to drink. Let wine touch my lips but don't swallow. When Victoria looks away, I pour a little on the floor behind the couch.
"Drink up, baby," Victoria urges. "It's your favorite."
I fake another sip. "Delicious."
We talk for twenty minutes. I pretend the drugs are working—let my words slur slightly, my eyelids droop. Victoria watches me with satisfaction, like a spider watching a fly in her web.
"You look tired," she coos. "Maybe you should rest here tonight."
"Maybe..." I let my head fall back against the couch.
Victoria's phone buzzes. She checks it and frowns. "I have to run out for a minute. Don't move. I'll be right back."
The moment she leaves, I'm on my feet. This is my chance. I have to find evidence while she's gone.
I search quickly, efficiently. Her bedroom yields nothing. The bathroom—nothing. I'm about to give up when I notice a locked box under her bed.
Using a paperclip, I pick the lock. My hands freeze when I see what's inside.
Daniel's watch. His wallet. His keys.
And photos. Dozens of photos of me sleeping. Me at the gym. Me in class. Some taken through windows. Some from inside my apartment.
At the bottom of the box is a journal. I flip it open and my blood turns to ice.
The first entry is dated eight months ago: "Damien is perfect. After my practice with Daniel, I know exactly how to make this one last forever."
Practice. She called murdering Daniel practice.
I photograph everything with trembling hands. This is it. This is the evidence we need.
I hear footsteps in the hallway. Victoria's back.
I barely get the box locked and shoved under the bed before the door opens. I throw myself on the couch, pretending to be passed out.
Victoria enters and I feel her standing over me. "Perfect," she whispers. "Just perfect."
Then I hear the worst sound in the world.
A zipper. Victoria opening a bag.
Through half-closed eyes, I see her pull out rope, duct tape, and a syringe filled with clear liquid.
"I'm sorry, Damien," she says, and she actually sounds sad. "But I can't let you go. And I definitely can't let that girl take you from me. So I'm going to make sure we're together forever. Just like I planned."
She moves toward me with the syringe.
And I realize with absolute certainty: Victoria isn't planning to control me anymore.
She's planning to kill me tonight.