Lena's POV
"You're wasting your time, Miss Cross."
Damien Cross's voice was as smooth as aged whiskey, his tone dripping with a dangerous mix of charm and indifference. He leaned back in his leather chair, his dark eyes fixed on me like I was an insect he couldn't decide whether to crush or let live.
The office around us was every bit as intimidating as its owner—sleek, modern, and cold. The walls were lined with bookshelves and abstract art, but nothing in the room felt personal, least of all the man in front of me.
"I don't think I am." I kept my voice steady, refusing to let him intimidate me. "My brother's missing, and I have reason to believe you know something about it."
Damien tilted his head, a flicker of amusement crossing his face. "And what reason would that be?"
"His journal," I said, meeting his gaze head-on. "Your name was in it."
The flicker of amusement disappeared, replaced by something darker, sharper. He leaned forward, his elbows resting on the massive oak desk between us. "If that's true, then your brother had a vivid imagination. I don't know him, Miss Cross. And I certainly have no idea where he is."
"Liar." The word slipped out before I could stop it, my frustration boiling over. I was tired of running into brick walls, and Damien Cross was the biggest one yet.
His lips curved into a slow, dangerous smile. "Careful, Lena. Accusing someone like me of lying can have... consequences."
I ignored the warning, even as a chill ran down my spine. "You expect me to believe that Ethan just randomly wrote your name down for no reason? That he vanished into thin air and it's all just a coincidence?"
"People vanish all the time," Damien said, his tone dismissive. "Especially people who dig into things they shouldn't."
"Is that a threat?"
"No." He leaned back again, the picture of unbothered confidence. "It's a fact."
I clenched my fists, fighting the urge to throw something at him. He was infuriating—too calm, too collected, like he was in control of everything, even this conversation. But I couldn't afford to lose my temper, not when I was this close to a potential lead.
"Look," I said, forcing myself to take a deep breath. "I'm not here to play games. I just want answers. If you don't know where Ethan is, fine. But if you know anything that can help me find him, I need to know."
Damien studied me in silence, his gaze unreadable. For a moment, I thought I saw something flicker in his eyes—regret, maybe, or hesitation. But it was gone as quickly as it came.
"I'm sorry about your brother," he said finally. "But I can't help you."
I opened my mouth to argue, but he cut me off with a wave of his hand.
"This conversation is over." He stood, signaling that the meeting was finished. "My assistant will show you out."
I stood too, anger bubbling just beneath the surface. "You may not care about what happens to Ethan, but I do. And I'm not going to stop until I find him. Whether you help me or not."
"Good luck, Miss Cross."
The dismissal in his tone was like a slap in the face, but I refused to let it show. I turned on my heel and walked out of his office, my heart pounding with frustration and something else—something I couldn't quite name.
---
By the time I reached the elevator, I was fuming. Damien Cross was hiding something. I could feel it in my bones. The way he'd deflected my questions, the way he'd looked at me—like he knew more than he was willing to say.
And then there was the way he'd said my name. Lena. Like it wasn't just a name, but a secret he was unraveling piece by piece.
As the elevator doors slid shut, I leaned against the wall, trying to calm my racing thoughts. I needed to think. To plan my next move. Damien might have denied knowing Ethan, but I wasn't convinced. Not yet.
---
Back in my apartment, I collapsed onto the couch, the weight of the day pressing down on me. Damien's words replayed in my mind, over and over, like a taunt I couldn't escape.
"People vanish all the time."
What the hell did that mean? Was it a clue? A warning? Or just another way to throw me off track?
I glanced at the drawer where I'd hidden Ethan's journal before it was stolen. The memory of that night still sent shivers down my spine—the stranger, the coin, the way my world had shifted in an instant.
I reached for the drawer anyway, hoping against hope that the journal might somehow have reappeared. But when I opened it, there was nothing inside but the coin, still glowing faintly in the dim light.
I picked it up, turning it over in my hand. It was heavier than it looked, its surface etched with strange symbols I didn't recognize. I'd spent hours trying to decipher them, but they remained a mystery, just like everything else about Ethan's disappearance.
With a sigh, I set the coin down and leaned back, my eyes drifting closed. I was exhausted—mentally, physically, emotionally. But just as sleep began to pull me under, a thought struck me.
The journal hadn't been completely stolen. Not really.
Before the stranger had taken it, I'd managed to snap photos of a few key pages. They were still on my phone, waiting for me to piece them together.
I grabbed my phone from the coffee table and scrolled through the photos until I found what I was looking for. Page after page of Ethan's frantic handwriting, filled with cryptic notes and fragmented thoughts.
And then, there it was.
A name.
Damien Cross.
I stared at it, my pulse quickening. Beneath the name was a single line of text, written in Ethan's slanted scrawl:
"The answer lies in his past."
My stomach twisted. What answer? What past?
Before I could think too much about it, my phone buzzed in my hand. A text from an unknown number:
"Stop digging, Lena. This is your only warning."
My heart leapt into my throat. Whoever was behind this wasn't just watching—they were close. Too close.
I jumped up, suddenly feeling exposed. The walls of my apartment felt too thin, the shadows too deep. I needed to get out, to clear my head.
But as I grabbed my jacket, my gaze fell on something that hadn't been there before.
A single piece of paper, folded neatly and tucked under the coin.
With trembling hands, I unfolded it and froze.
It was a photo.
Ethan.
And Damien Cross.
Standing together, their faces half-hidden in shadow.
The blood drained from my face as I stared at the image, my mind racing.
Damien had lied.
And now, I was more determined than ever to find out why.