Damon did his best to reassure me that he had no idea about Lesley’s past. I wanted to believe him. I wanted to trust that the man who had risked his life for me wasn’t just another liar in my story.
“I swear, Zoey, I didn’t know,” he told me one evening as we sat in the dimly lit kitchen. “Lesley never told me, and I never asked. But I promise you—whatever happens, I’ll help you until the end.”
His words felt genuine, but promises meant nothing to me anymore.
I focused on one thing: revenge.
And surprisingly, Lesley was the one leading the charge.
One night, while we were mapping out possible ways to take down James, something unexpected happened. Damon leaned against the wall, deep in thought, when suddenly—a section of the floor creaked and shifted. Before we could react, a hidden panel slid open, revealing a dark, winding underground tunnel.
My heart pounded. “What the hell is that?”
Lesley stepped forward, staring at the tunnel as if facing a ghost from her past. “A reminder,” she murmured.