Chapter 29 #2
"Because I don't deserve it." The words scrape my throat raw. "Because others have suffered due to my failures."
Lila shakes her head, her eyes soft in a way that makes my chest ache. "I can't believe that. Whatever you've done?—"
I cut her off with a bitter laugh. "You don't know what I've seen. What I've failed to prevent."
"Then tell me." Her hand tightens on mine.
The words catch in my throat like broken glass. I've buried this story so deep, let it fester inside me for over twenty years. But those green eyes pull the poison out.
"Her name was Gianna Moretti." My voice sounds foreign to my own ears. "I was twelve when she showed up at our house. My father said she was a 'guest.' But they locked the room where they put her."
Lila's face pales but she doesn't pull away.
"She was eleven. Dark curls, these huge brown eyes. Wore a yellow dress with daisies on it." I stare at a point beyond Lila's shoulder, seeing not the campus but that room. "She had a stuffed rabbit she called Mr. Hoppy. Pink, missing one ear."
The memory sears through me like white phosphorus.
"I stole the key and snuck in one day. She sat on the floor in front of the fireplace in her room, and asked me if monsters were real." I clench my jaw so hard it hurts. "I told her no. Fucking idiot that I was."
Lila's eyes glisten with unshed tears. I want to stop, spare her this ugliness, but the dam has broken.
"She was the daughter of Vincent Moretti—head of a rival family my father worked against. They took her as leverage in some territorial dispute.
" I drain my coffee, wishing it was whiskey.
"I overheard my father on the phone, learned they were going to kill her if her father didn't comply to their demands. "
"Oh, God," Lila whispers.
"I tried to help her escape. I stole the key again, got her as far as the garden before my father caught us." My hands ball into fists at the memory. "He beat me unconscious. When I came to, she was gone."
The campus noise fades to white static. In my mind, I'm still that helpless twelve-year-old, watching the local news report two days later.
"They found her body in the East River. She'd been..." I swallow hard. "The rabbit was missing so was her little dress."
Lila's tears fall freely now. She makes no move to wipe them away.
"I could've done more. Could've told someone, called the police. But I didn't think my father could bring a little girl harm. I didn't want to see the kind of monster he was."
"You were twelve," Lila says fiercely.
"Old enough to know better." The self-loathing tastes familiar, comfortable almost. "Old enough to know my father was evil. But I did nothing until it was too late. Just like with Sarah."
Lila frowns, confusion crossing her features. "Sarah?"
Shit. The name slipped out without me meaning it to. Too late to backpedal now.
"The missing student I'm looking for. I've been tracking her since she disappeared after meeting with… someone—the same guy whose wife hired me to follow him." I run a hand over my face. "I think he hurt her, and I was too slow. Always too fucking slow."
She absorbs this, her journalist mind connecting dots.
I force myself to meet her eyes. "History has a sick way of repeating itself. Different monsters, same story."
"But you're trying to help now," she insists. "That matters."
"Does it? The body count stays the same."
Lila takes my face between her hands, her touch gentle but insistent. "Yes. It matters. You matter."
For a moment, I let myself believe her. Let myself imagine a world where men like me get redemption instead of just revenge. Where the ghosts of dead girls don't follow us into every dark room.
"I should go," I say finally. "Sarah's phone needs to get to my tech guy."
But I don't move. Not yet. For these few seconds more, I let myself be anchored by Lila's touch, by her unfathomable faith in me.
"Thank you," I say finally, the words strange and clumsy on my tongue. Gratitude isn't my native language.
"For what?"
"For listening. For not running away when you should." I brush my thumb across her cheek, wiping away a tear that's still there. "For letting me drag all that ugliness into your bright world."
Lila leans into my touch, turning to kiss my palm. Something cracks open in my chest—not the violent, sudden breach of a kicked-in door, but the slow, deliberate opening of a vault long sealed.
"You know what's fucked up? I actually feel... lighter." I laugh, the sound hollow against the campus buzz around us. "Twenty-one years carrying that shit around, and all it took was ten minutes with you to make it hurt less."
She smiles that smile again, the one that makes the world slow down. "That's how it works, Dane. Darkness can't survive in light."
"Very poetic. You sure you're not an English major?"
"Just a girl who knows something about surviving monsters. And besides… you have helped me too."
We sit in silence for a moment, both understanding that whatever this is between us—this fragile, terrifying connection—it's changing us both. For better or worse.
"I've lived my whole life in shadows," I say quietly. "You're the first light that didn't blind me."
I stand, adjusting my jacket over my holster. "I should get going. I need Milo. This phone isn't going to unlock itself."
My fingers brush against Sarah's cracked iPhone in my pocket. Another young woman who trusted the wrong man. Another failure if I don't move fast enough.
Then it hits me. I turn back to Lila, who's gathering her books.
"Good luck in your interview," I say. "For Veritas. I know you'll do great."
Her face transforms—surprise, then that genuine smile that makes my chest tighten like I've been gut-shot.
Most people would assume I'd forgotten about her interview in the middle of all this darkness, but she's become the focal point my mind circles back to, no matter how deep in the shadows I wade.
"You remembered," she says softly.
"Hard to forget anything about you." The honesty in my voice surprises even me.
She has no fucking clue that she's all I think about. Between surveillance photos and waiting for Langford to slip up, her face appears in my mind like salvation. Green eyes, freckles, that cautious smile when she's deciding whether to trust me.
Walking away from her feels like leaving shelter during a firefight—every step exposing more vulnerability. The campus buzzes with normal people living normal lives, reminding me how out of place I am here. In daylight. With her.
I stop at the edge of the quad, watching students sprawl on the grass, laughing in the autumn sun, oblivious to the predators walking among them. Something crystallizes in my mind—a decision I didn't know I was making until it's already made.
This is it. Claire Langford will be my last client.
After I find Sarah, I'm done. No more peering into the abyss of other people's secrets. No more cataloging human depravity to assuage my guilt.
It's time to focus on whatever this is with Lila. See if a man forged in darkness can learn to live in light without burning to ash.
Fuck, that's terrifying—scarier than any firefight I survived. At least there, I knew the rules: kill or be killed. With Lila, I'm navigating blind, equipped with emotional weapons I've never used.
But for the first time in my life, the fear seems worth it.