Chapter 29
DES
Months ago, Athens
The narrow stairwell inside the café is quiet as I descend, each step echoing faintly against the stone walls. The farther I move from Darcie, the louder my unease grows, coiling tight in my chest.
It begs me to return to her.
But I’ve given myself more than enough time with her—confirmed by the nagging sense of warning that haunts me with every step.
By the time I reach the street, the feeling that something is wrong is no longer a whisper but a loud certainty.
I step onto the bustling road, letting the movement of the crowd mask my pause. My gaze sweeps the area once, casual, practiced.
And then I feel it.
Not sight.
Not sound.
Presence.
Ancient. Familiar.
Watching.
A slow breath fills my lungs as I turn.
Charmian stands across the street.
She doesn’t move or speak. My fellow Original simply watches me.
The world around us continues as if nothing has changed—voices rising, footsteps passing, life moving uninterrupted—but the moment between us locks into something still. Heavy.
I straighten, every muscle tightening as I cross the distance between us.
She doesn’t bother to meet me halfway.
“Charmian,” I greet evenly.
“Desmond.” Her gaze flicks past me to the second floor of the café.
She saw her.
“Have a nice cup of coffee?” she asks, voice calm.
Too calm.
“I don’t know what you’re referring to.”
It’s a poor lie.
Charmian’s eyes slide back to mine, sharp with something I can’t quite place. Not intrigue.
Worse.
Understanding.
“And here I thought you were the cautious one,” she murmurs.
I give up the pretense. “You’re reading too much into nothing. I just had coffee with an ordinary young woman.”
“Ordinary?” Her brow lifts.
I step closer, lowering my voice. “She’s a tourist, Charmian. That’s all.”
She studies me for a long moment, her gaze searching in a way that makes it feel like she’s peeling back layers I’d rather keep buried.
“You felt nothing for her?”
The question hits hard, but the lie that leaves my lips hurts harder.
“I felt nothing.”
And now that I’ve placed the masking on Darcie’s mind, she feels nothing either.
Silence stretches between us.
“Interesting.” The single word lands like a verdict.
A chill slides down my spine, tangling with my pain.
Charmian doesn’t sound convinced, and that’s dangerous.
For Darcie.
For all of us.
“Whatever you’re thinking, you’re mistaken.”
“Am I?”
“Yes.”
Another beat of silence.
Then her gaze flicks upward again, toward the balcony.
“You should be more careful, Desmond,” Charmian says quietly. “Some things aren’t meant to be ignored.”
A warning, not just about me.
But about her fate.
About our connection.
Aside from my brothers, Charmian understands more than all the other Originals how the loss of my One affects me. She’s witnessed my breakdowns. She’s endured my pained wrath.
None of the others can claim the same.
I swallow down the loss threatening to choke me. “I have everything under control.”
The words feel hollow even as I say them.
Her lips press into a thin line. Then, finally, she nods. “Of course, you do.”
She steps past me.
“Just make sure,” she adds, her voice carrying over the noise of the street, “that your control doesn’t cost us everything. The alliance cannot endure another battle to fight.”
I grit my teeth and stand there long after Charmian disappears into the crowd. The weight of her words settling heavily in my chest.
Because the truth is, I don’t have control.
Not when it comes to my One.
And if the others find out she walks the world once more, the rebellion will come for her.
But I can’t let that happen.
I will not survive the loss again.
And if I don’t…neither will the world.