Aria's POV
"Absolutely not."
I blocked Damien's car door with my body, keys clutched in my fist. "This is my friend. My problem. I'm going alone."
"Move, Aria." His voice was calm, but his eyes were steel. "You have three seconds before I physically pick you up and put you in the passenger seat."
"You wouldn't dare—"
He stepped forward, and I stumbled back against the car. He was so close I could feel the heat radiating off him, smell his cologne mixed with coffee and something darker, more dangerous.
"I've spent five years regretting that I wasn't there to protect you," he said quietly. "I'm not making that mistake again. So you can get in the car willingly, or I can make you. Your choice."
Nobody had talked to me like that since Marcus. Nobody had dared.
But where Marcus's control had been suffocating, a cage designed to break me, Damien's felt different. Like a shield instead of a prison.
I hated that I wanted to lean into it.
"Fine," I snapped. "But I drive."
"No."
"It's my car!"
"And you're shaking so hard you can barely hold your keys." He plucked them from my hand with infuriating ease. "Get in. We're wasting time."
I wanted to argue. Wanted to prove I didn't need rescuing by some man who'd waltzed back into my life after five years of silence.
But Sophie was tied to a chair somewhere, bleeding. And I was terrified.
So I got in the car.
Damien drove like he did everything else—with absolute confidence and complete control. We merged onto the highway heading toward Pinehaven Cliffs, the city lights fading behind us.
Lily was safe with Damien's security team at his house. James was setting up surveillance equipment at the cliffs. Everything was planned, organized, handled.
I should've felt relieved. Instead, I felt like I was suffocating.
"Stop clenching your fists," Damien said without looking at me. "You're going to hurt yourself."
I looked down. My nails had drawn blood on my palms.
"Tell me about your marriage."
The words hit me like ice water. "What?"
"Your marriage to Marcus. I need to know what I'm dealing with." His hands tightened on the steering wheel. "And you need to say it out loud. All of it. Because whatever memories you're missing from that night five years ago, they're connected to what he did to you."
"I don't want to talk about it."
"I know. Do it anyway."
Anger flared in my chest. "You don't get to order me around just because you're helping me. You're not my therapist."
"No, I'm not. I'm the guy who's loved you since we were fifteen and stupid enough to think love was easy." He finally looked at me, and the raw honesty in his eyes made my breath catch. "And I'm the guy who's going to have to stand there tonight and not lose his mind when I see whatever Marcus has done to your best friend. So help me understand what kind of monster we're dealing with."
The confession hung in the air between us, heavy and terrifying.
He still loved me. After everything. After I'd married someone else and built a life that excluded him completely.
"It started small," I heard myself say. My voice sounded hollow, like it was coming from somewhere far away. "He'd get upset if I wore certain clothes. Said they made me look like I was trying to get attention from other men. Then it was my friends—he didn't like how much time I spent with Kira and Sophie. Said they were bad influences."
Damien's jaw clenched, but he didn't interrupt.
"After Lily was born, it got worse. He convinced me to quit teaching, said I needed to focus on being a good mother. Then he controlled all the money. I had to ask permission for everything—groceries, diapers, gas for the car." My voice cracked. "He said it was because I was bad with finances. That I'd mess everything up if he didn't handle it."
"Did he hit you?"
The question was soft, but I felt it like a knife.
"Once." My hand moved unconsciously to my ribs, where the scar still lived. "I told him I wanted to go back to work. He got so angry. He threw me down the stairs and then—" I couldn't finish. Couldn't say how he'd stood over me while I bled, calmly explaining why it was my fault.
Damien pulled the car over so violently the tires screeched. He threw it in park and turned to me, his face a mask of barely controlled rage.
"Once?" His voice shook. "He put you in the hospital once and you stayed with him for three more years?"
"I had nowhere to go! No money, no job, a baby to take care of—"
"You had me!" The words exploded out of him. "You could've called me. Written to me. Found me somehow. I would've come back. I would've—"
"You left!" I screamed back, five years of pain finally breaking free. "You left me at Kira's funeral and I never heard from you again! I called you seventeen times. I sent you emails. You ignored every single one!"
"What?" He looked genuinely shocked. "I never got any calls from you. No emails. Nothing."
We stared at each other as the horrible truth settled between us.
"Marcus," I whispered. "He had my phone. My computer. He said he was helping me because I was too grief-stricken to function. What if he—"
"Deleted everything." Damien's expression turned murderous. "He isolated you. Made you think I'd abandoned you. Made you think you had no one but him."
Fresh tears burned my eyes. "I thought you didn't care."
"I thought you didn't want me." His hand moved like he wanted to touch me but stopped himself. "We were both wrong."
My phone buzzed, shattering the moment.
Another message: "Two hours early. Change of plans. Come now or Sophie's body goes in the ocean. GPS coordinates attached. —K"
"It's not midnight yet," I said, panic rising. "They said midnight—"
Damien was already putting the car back in drive. "They're testing us. Trying to throw us off balance so James won't have time to set up properly." He made a call. "James, they moved up the timeline. We're heading to the coordinates now."
James's voice crackled through the speaker. "I'm still twenty minutes out. You'll be exposed—"
"Then you better drive fast."
He hung up and floored the accelerator. The car shot forward into the darkness.
I pulled up the GPS coordinates on my phone. They led to an abandoned lighthouse near Pinehaven Cliffs—a place Kira, Damien, and I used to sneak into as teenagers.
"They chose that location on purpose," I said. "They want us to remember."
"Remember what?"
"The summer before senior year. The three of us broke in and spent the whole night talking about our futures. Kira wanted to be a photographer. You wanted to be a doctor who helped people." I swallowed hard. "I wanted to paint the whole world."
"You still can."
"I work at a diner and design logos for fifty bucks a pop. I'm not painting anything."
"That's what Marcus made you believe. It's not the truth."
The lighthouse appeared in the distance, dark and looming against the night sky. Damien killed the headlights a quarter mile out and coasted to a stop.
"Stay behind me," he ordered. "Don't speak unless I tell you to. And whatever happens, whatever you see, you do not run toward anyone without my permission. Understood?"
"I'm not a child—"
"You're the woman I love walking into a trap set by people who've already proved they're willing to hurt you." His hand finally did touch me—cupping my face with devastating gentleness. "So please. Please just do what I say."
I nodded, not trusting my voice.
We got out of the car. The wind from the ocean was cold and sharp, carrying the smell of salt and rot. No other vehicles in sight. No signs of life.
"Where is everyone?" I whispered.
"Inside. Waiting." Damien pulled something from his jacket—a gun. "James gave me this. I've never used one outside a shooting range, but—"
"You brought a gun?"
"Did you think I was coming here with just my charming personality?"
Despite everything, I almost smiled.
We approached the lighthouse entrance. The door hung open, creaking in the wind. Damien went first, moving like someone trained for this. Maybe he was. Maybe there was a lot about the new Damien I didn't know.
The inside was pitch black. Damien pulled out a flashlight, cutting a beam through the darkness. Old graffiti covered the walls. Broken glass crunched under our feet.
"Sophie?" I called out. "Kira?"
My voice echoed up the spiral staircase.
No response.
Damien started climbing, testing each step before putting his weight on it. I followed close behind, my heart hammering so loud I was sure everyone could hear it.
We reached the top. The light room was empty except for a single chair in the center.
Sophie's phone sat on the chair. Playing a video on a loop.
Damien grabbed it, and we both watched in horror.
Sophie was tied up, gagged, crying. But she wasn't alone. Marcus stood behind her, smiling at the camera.
"Hello, Aria," he said pleasantly, like he was greeting me at a dinner party. "I'm glad you came. Though I'm disappointed you brought your boyfriend. I specifically said alone."
He walked around Sophie, trailing his fingers across her shoulders. She flinched.
"Here's the thing about tonight. It was never about saving your friend." His smile widened. "It was about getting you exactly where I want you. Alone, scared, desperate. Just like old times."
The video cut to a new angle. Kira was there too, but not tied up. She stood next to Marcus, and her expression was...
Wrong.
Empty.
Obedient.
"Kira's been very helpful," Marcus continued. "Five years is a long time to break someone. To make them understand their place. To teach them that fighting back only brings pain." He looked at the camera again. "By the time I'm done tonight, you'll understand that too."
The video ended.
And behind us, I heard the door to the lighthouse slam shut.
Footsteps on the stairs. Multiple people, moving fast.
Damien raised his gun, putting himself between me and the staircase.
"When I say run," he whispered, "you go through that window onto the catwalk and you don't stop until you reach James."
"I'm not leaving you—"
"Aria. For once in your life, let someone protect you."
The footsteps reached the top.
A flashlight beam cut through the darkness, blinding us both.
And a voice I'd never wanted to hear again said, "Hello, darling. Did you miss me?"
Marcus stepped into the light, gun in hand.
And right behind him, holding a knife, was Kira.