Chapter 12 #3
I exhale through my nose. He's right. If I told him, he would have come. He would've complained the entire way, packed snacks I didn't ask for, and worried himself sick, but he would have come.
I stare into my tea, watching the steam curl upward as guilt twists somewhere behind my ribs. I should have given him the choice.
"It's about Sola."
Damaris holds up a hand. "Wait. You went out there in the middle of the night because of your sister?"
"I—yeah. I… think she's here."
"What do you mean, you think she's here?" He leans forward, elbows on the table, watching me in that steady, patient way that makes it harder to lie.
Part of me thinks about keeping it to myself. But the photograph keeps circling back, dragging the library with it, the blurred street sign, the alley, and the sick feeling that I walked straight into something I still don't understand.
I let out a shaky breath. "I found something in the library."
Damaris frowns, but I keep talking. Now that I've started, I can't seem to stop. "There was a street sign reflected in the glass behind them. I couldn't make out the full name at first, but tonight I finally figured out where it was."
"And you went alone?"
"I thought it might lead to Sola." My grip tightens around the mug. "It felt too specific to be random."
Damaris is quiet, clearly trying to keep up with my half-explanation. "Ro…"
"I know. And that's exactly the problem." I push back from the table, cross to my desk, and pull the photographs from the drawer. "None of this makes sense. It's like everything is connected, but I can't see how."
Damaris studies the photos as I spread them across the table. "That's the Black Chapel." Then he goes still, his gaze catching on the second photograph. "Wait. Is that Sola?"
"Maybe." Just hearing him say her name makes my stomach twist. "I can't see her face properly, but Halvern was there too."
Damaris looks back down at the image. "And you think this is all connected?"
"I don't know," I admit. "But I can't stop feeling like it is."
"You've got to be careful. The Virels own that place, and they own much more on Sero. His invitation to come to his party?" He shakes his head. "Not a coincidence."
"I think you're right."
My thoughts flicker, uninvited, to the alley, to fingers closing around my throat and lips ghosting over mine. I shove them aside. Not here. Not now.
Damaris doesn't need that. He's already worried enough.
"Hey." I look up when he pulls me back. "You're not crazy, okay? If it feels wrong, it probably is. But going out there alone? That was a terrible idea."
Something in my chest loosens just slightly at that, and I huff out a breath, because I know he's right. "Yeah. I figured that out."
His mouth twitches. "Good. Because I'd like you to not get kidnapped on my watch."
That almost makes me smile. Wrapping my hands around the mug, I let the heat sink into my fingers. "I just thought…"
"That it might be her," he finishes for me.
I nod. For a while neither of us says anything, but this time it doesn't feel uncomfortable. It just feels like us.
"We'll figure it out," he says after a moment.
I want to believe him. I really do.
Outside, the rain picks up, soft at first, then steadier, tapping against the glass in uneven rhythms.
Damaris glances toward the window, then back at me. "So, what about him?"
I freeze, my fingers tightening around the mug. "What about him?"
"Ciaran. The one who dragged you out of whatever that was. Why is he suddenly everywhere?"
I shake my head. "I don't know."
That's not entirely true. But it's the only answer I have that doesn't make things worse.
"Did he help you?"
I hesitate, then nod. "Yeah."
Damaris studies me, like he's deciding whether to ask something else. For once, he doesn't. "Okay." He leans back in his chair. "Then we need to be careful. Because something's going on. I don't know what it is yet, but I don't like any of the pieces we have so far."
We don't say much after that. The tea goes cold between us. The cookies disappear one by one, more out of habit than hunger. Outside, the rain settles into a steady rhythm against the glass, filling the silence without quite breaking it.
Eventually, Damaris stretches and pushes back from the table. "We'll deal with it tomorrow."
I nod, then hesitate as I follow him into the kitchen. "Dama?"
"Hmm?"
"What about you? You said you thought Lucan was your biggest problem."
When he freezes halfway through rinsing his mug, I know I've got my answer.
"Is there something you need to tell me?"
"Don't."
"Dama."
A flush creeps up his neck as he turns away, setting the mug beside the sink. "I haven't decided yet."
"Decided what?"
His eyes narrow as he flicks off the kitchen light. "Whether he's responsible for those extra credits."
I laugh. "You're impossible."
"Go to sleep, boo."
"Yeah, yeah."
He's right though, I'm exhausted. By the time we finish arguing our way through the evening routine, the lights are off, blankets pulled back, and we're climbing into our beds like this is just another night.
I lie on my back, staring at the ceiling and listening to the rain while Damaris's breathing evens out beside me.
Mine doesn't.
Because every time I close my eyes, Ciaran is there. My throat tightens as I remember his hand at my neck, the pressure of his thumb against my pulse, the exact moment my breath hitched and stayed there.
I turn under the blanket and try to push it away, but the worst part isn't that it happened. It's that I went still under his hand, leaning into the touch instead of pulling away when I should have.
I listen to the rain tapping against the window as I stare into the dark. I don't know which part of tonight I should be more afraid of—the trap I walked into… or the one I didn't.