The hospital's lights blurred in Damien's vision. After confronting Elias's so-called parents, after holding Elias's cold hand, there was nowhere else to go but backward — into the past.
Back home, he dug through the dust-covered box in his closet.
There it was. The letter.
"For Damien. When I'm gone."
He tore it open with trembling hands. And as his eyes scanned the paper, Noah's voice rose like a ghost in the silence.
---
Damien,
If you're reading this, then I'm gone.
I wish I could say more, but I can't—not without putting you in danger.
There are people after me, powerful ones.
I tried to fight them, but I know I won't win.
So I'll say only this:
One day, you'll meet a boy.
Elias.
He's mine.
You'll know him the second you see him.
He looks like me.
He's stubborn like me, too. Probably mouthy.
I wasn't allowed to raise him.
I don't know what kind of life he's had.
But when you find him…
Protect him. Love him.
Not because he's mine.
But because you loved me.
And that's how I'll know it was real.
Even after death.
~ Noah.
---
Damien dropped to the floor, clutching the letter to his chest.
His vision blurred with tears. The words echoed in his ears like a dying heartbeat.
"I did love you, Noah," he whispered. "I still do. And I failed him. I failed both of you."
Just then—his phone rang.
He almost didn't answer.
But something in his gut told him to.
"Damien!" Cassian's voice was breathless. Frantic.
"Someone just broke into Elias's room. Tried to remove his life support—we caught them in time—but they got away. We don't know how the hell they got in!"
Damien's blood turned to ice.
The letter slipped from his hands.
His heart stopped.
---
The hospital was quiet in the way only places of life and death could be. Soft footsteps echoed in dim corridors as the night staff moved about with routine urgency. Lights buzzed faintly above, and somewhere in the distance, a machine beeped with a patient's stubborn heartbeat. The world outside slept. But inside Room 408, death was being summoned.
She moved like smoke.
Her disguise was flawless—hospital scrubs, ID badge, surgical mask. No one noticed her. No one questioned her. She knew this place. She'd studied it, memorized its blind spots and surveillance angles. Her mind operated with the meticulous calm of someone used to waiting for years to act.
She paused at the door. "Elias Vale," the nameplate read. She hated how much it resembled his.
Her gloved hand trembled as it hovered over the handle, just for a second.
You look just like him... she thought bitterly.
She pushed the door open.
Inside, the room was quiet. The rhythmic whoosh of the ventilator. The mechanical hum of the machines keeping him tethered to life. His face was pale, peaceful. So young. So undeserving of what was about to happen. And yet—he was Noah's legacy. A living scar.
She stepped closer.
"You shouldn't be here," she whispered to herself, heart pounding. "But you are. Just like he said you would be."
---
She had once loved Noah Vale.
Back then, they were both cadets—raw, hungry for justice. She remembered his hands, always tucked in his pockets, and his voice, calm but firm. She remembered waiting for him to notice her, to appreciate how she stood by him in every assignment, how she killed herself to keep up. But he never did. Not once.
Instead, he looked at him.
Damien Cross.
Noah never said it aloud, but she saw the shift. The softness in his eyes. The way his smile faltered when Damien wasn't around. And then came the whispers. The rumors. The truth.
He never loved her.
He loved him.
She was just a shadow to the man who had it all: the gift, the brilliance, and Noah's heart.
Then, years later, she discovered more.
Noah had gotten close to something dangerous—too dangerous. A group, powerful and ancient. A hidden hand moving behind institutions. And despite warnings, he pressed on. He wouldn't let it go.
Then he died.
The news had crushed her—but not because she mourned him. No, it crushed her because he had died fighting for someone else. Because even in death, he hadn't chosen her. He died for a boy. A cause. A secret he wouldn't share.
And now his son lay before her.
Elias. His last mistake.
---
She reached for the ventilator's connection, fingers steady.
"I wish I didn't have to do this," she murmured. "But letting you live would be letting him win again."
The door clicked.
She froze.
Footsteps.
Too fast to hide. Too late to finish the job.
"Hey! What are you doing in here?" a nurse's voice shouted.
She spun around, eyes narrowed.
"Wrong room," she said with icy calm.
"Stay where you are!"
But she was already moving—dashing past the nurse, down the hall. Her heart raced as alarms began to sound. Her ID badge hit the floor behind her. Someone shouted. Radios crackled.
She didn't stop running.
She disappeared into the stairwell.
She disappeared into the night.
And by the time security reviewed the footage, they would find nothing. Her face never captured. Her identity unknown.
But Elias Vale had almost died that night.
---
Back in the room, Cassian burst in, breathless.
"Check his vitals!" he barked, rushing to Elias's side. "What happened?"
"He's stable," a nurse confirmed, trembling. "But someone tried to—"
Cassian didn't need to hear the rest. His eyes locked on Elias's pale face. The boy hadn't stirred. Hadn't even flinched. Oblivious to the threat that had nearly ended him.
His fists clenched.
Someone wanted him dead.
And they weren't done.