Bella's POV
Damien's car crashes through a red light.
"Are you insane?!" I grip the dashboard as we swerve around a taxi. "You're going to get us killed!"
"Better than getting arrested," he says grimly, checking the rearview mirror. "We have maybe ten minutes before every cop in the city is looking for you."
Luis is in the back seat, typing frantically on his phone. "I'm deleting the security footage from the station. If anyone asks, we were never at Patricia Moore's house."
"That's evidence tampering!" I twist around to stare at him. "Luis, you could lose your badge—"
"I'd rather lose my badge than watch you go to prison for murders you didn't commit." He looks up, his face serious. "You saved my life when that drug dealer had a gun to my head. I'm returning the favor."
Tears burn my eyes, but I blink them away. No time for emotions. No time for fear.
"Where are we going?" I ask Damien.
"My family's old estate. Outside the city." His knuckles are white on the steering wheel. "If Elias is alive, that's where he'd hide. It's been abandoned for years—no one goes there anymore."
"Why not?"
His jaw tightens. "Because that's where our parents were murdered."
The car goes silent except for the sound of tires on wet pavement.
"Damien," I say carefully, "if your brother watched me get destroyed five years ago... if he disappeared that same night... why? Why would he care about a stranger?"
Damien doesn't answer for a long moment. Then: "Because he was in love with you."
My heart stops. "What?"
"You met him once. Two weeks before your engagement party. You don't remember—it was brief. You were volunteering at the hospital, reading to sick children. Elias was there for treatment. You read him a story from a children's book because you thought he was younger than he was. The disease made him look frail, weak."
I search my memory desperately, trying to remember. A hospital. Sick children. I read to them every Tuesday...
A flash of memory hits me: A young man in a hospital bed, watching me with intense gray eyes. I thought he was a teenager because he was so thin. I read him "The Little Prince" because that was his favorite book.
"Oh my God," I whisper. "The boy who never smiled. Until the end of the story."
"That was Elias." Damien's voice is strained. "You were kind to him. You treated him like a person, not a dying patient. For thirty minutes, you made him forget he was dying. And he fell in love with you for it."
"But I was engaged to Marcus—"
"He knew. He followed you after you left the hospital. Learned everything about you. Your fiancé, your family, your life." Damien turns to look at me, and his eyes are haunted. "When he found out about your engagement party, he went. Not to cause trouble—just to see you happy one last time before he died."
"And instead he watched me get destroyed," I finish, my stomach churning.
"He called me that night, sobbing. Said he found you bleeding in an alley, whispering the names of people who betrayed you. He wanted to help, but he was too weak. So he called me, made me promise to save you, and then he disappeared."
"You think he's been alive this whole time, getting stronger, planning revenge for me?"
"I think he found a way to survive. And I think his love for you turned into something darker. Something obsessive." Damien's voice drops. "My brother was always intense, even before the disease. Add five years of isolation, pain, and a need for vengeance... he's not the person I knew anymore."
My phone buzzes. Another text from "E":
"Don't go to the estate. It's a trap. They know you're coming."
I show Damien. "Who's 'they'?"
Before he can answer, Luis curses from the back seat. "We've got company!"
I turn to look. Three black SUVs are following us, lights flashing. Not police—these are unmarked vehicles.
"Who is that?" I ask.
"I don't know, but they're not friendly." Damien accelerates, the car engine roaring. "Hold on!"
We take a corner so fast I'm thrown against the door. The SUVs stay right behind us, closing the gap.
One of them pulls alongside us. The window rolls down, and I see a man in a black mask pointing a gun.
"GET DOWN!" Damien shouts.
The rear window explodes as bullets tear through it. Luis ducks as glass rains everywhere. I pull out my service weapon, heart pounding.
"Who are these people?!" Luis shouts.
"I don't know!" I lean out the broken window and fire three shots at the closest SUV. Two hit the windshield. The driver swerves but doesn't slow down.
More gunfire. Our side mirror explodes. Damien yanks the wheel hard, taking us down a narrow alley. The SUVs are too big—they can't follow.
We burst out the other side and into an industrial area. Empty warehouses, no people, no witnesses.
Perfect place for an ambush.
"Damien, this feels wrong—" I start.
Too late.
A massive truck blocks the road ahead. We slam on the brakes, tires screaming. The car spins out and crashes into a wall.
Everything goes black for a second.
When I open my eyes, my head is bleeding. Luis is unconscious in the back. Damien is trying to open his door, but it's jammed.
Then I see them.
Men in black masks, surrounding the car. At least ten of them. All armed.
"Get out of the vehicle!" one shouts. "Hands where we can see them!"
"We're police!" I yell back, holding up my badge. "Stand down!"
"You're not police anymore, Detective Hartley." A different voice, cold and familiar. "You're a murder suspect. And you're under arrest."
A man steps forward, pulling off his mask.
I recognize him immediately. Detective Warren—one of the senior officers from my station. Someone I trusted.
"Warren?" I breathe. "What are you doing?"
"Following orders." He aims his gun at my head. "Internal Affairs wants you alive. But they didn't say anything about your friends."
He shifts his aim to Damien.
"No!" I reach for my gun, but it's not there—I must have dropped it in the crash.
"Tell me where Elias Crowe is," Warren demands. "Tell me, and I'll let them live."
"I don't know where he is!"
"Wrong answer." His finger tightens on the trigger.
A shot rings out.
But it doesn't come from Warren's gun.
Warren's head snaps back, and he crumples to the ground. A perfect hole in his forehead.
The other masked men panic, spinning around, trying to find the shooter.
More shots. Silent, precise. One by one, the men drop like puppets with cut strings.
In less than thirty seconds, all ten men are dead.
I stare in shock at the bodies. Professional kills. Sniper accuracy.
Luis groans, waking up. "What... what happened?"
"Someone just saved us," Damien says quietly. He's staring at a rooftop across from us. "Someone very skilled."
I follow his gaze and see a figure standing on the roof. Dark clothes, lean build. Even from this distance, I can see his eyes.
Gray eyes. Like storm clouds. Like Damien's.
Elias.
He raises one hand in a small wave. Then he holds up a phone and types something.
My phone buzzes:
"You're welcome. Now run. More are coming. And Bella? Stop trying to find me. I'll come to you when it's safe. Until then, trust no one. Not even my brother. - E"
"What does it say?" Damien asks.
I don't answer. Because the last line is replaying in my head: "Trust no one. Not even my brother."
Why would Elias warn me against Damien?
I look at the man sitting next to me. The man who saved me five years ago. The man who's been helping me investigate. The man whose company made the cards found at both murder scenes.
"Bella?" Damien's voice is cautious. "What did the text say?"
I meet his eyes, and for the first time, I wonder: What if I've been trusting the wrong brother?
What if Damien isn't trying to help me find the killer?
What if he IS the killer, and Elias is trying to stop him?
"Nothing important," I lie, tucking my phone away. "We should go. He's right—more people are coming."
But as we climb out of the wrecked car and run into the night, I keep my hand near where my backup gun is hidden in my ankle holster.
Because I just realized something terrifying:
I'm trapped between two brothers who both claim to be protecting me.
One of them is a murderer.
And I have no idea which one.