Chapter Eight

It had been five days since Damien left, and not a single word from him. Mrs. Henley had tried her best to fill the void Lena felt, fussing over meals and making light conversation, but it wasn't enough to keep the growing frustration and confusion at bay.

Lena didn't even have her phone anymore; it had mysteriously disappeared the day she arrived. She had no way to contact the outside world, no way to distract herself from the incessant questions that filled her head.

She wandered aimlessly, letting her feet take her wherever they wished. The estate felt too quiet, the kind of quiet that amplified every sound Lena made as she walked along its endless paths.

Eventually, she found herself at the edge of the property, where an old playground sat tucked behind a grove of trees. It was overgrown and forgotten, the paint on the swings faded and chipped. A slide stood at an odd angle, its metal surface dulled with rust, and a broken merry-go-round creaked faintly in the wind.

Something about the sight tugged at her, a faint stirring in the back of her mind. She stepped closer, her eyes scanning the empty swings swaying slightly in the breeze.

And then it hit her—a memory.

She was small, her feet barely brushing the ground as someone pushed her on a swing. Laughter filled the air—hers, bright and carefree. Behind her, a strong voice called out, encouraging her to go higher, to stretch her legs toward the sky.

Lena stumbled back, pressing a hand to her head as pain lanced through her skull. The memory dissolved as quickly as it had appeared, leaving her reeling. She staggered, her vision blurring for a moment.

"Dammit," she muttered, clutching her temple as the headache worsened. She turned to leave, desperate to escape the suffocating weight of the forgotten past pressing down on her. But before she could take another step, she collided with something solid.

A wall?

No.

Damien.

His hands shot out, steadying her before she could fall. His touch was warm, and it made her pulse quicken in a way that annoyed her.

"Are you okay?" he asked gently, though his brows furrowed with concern.

Lena pulled away from him, her frustration bubbling over. "I'm fine," she snapped, refusing to meet his eyes.

"You don't look fine," he said, stepping closer.

"I said I'm fine," she bit out, turning sharply on her heel and heading back toward the house.

She felt him following her, his footsteps steady and unhurried. The nerve of him—showing up now, after leaving her alone for days with nothing but questions and memories she couldn't make sense of.

"Lena," he called after her, his voice carrying a note of warning.

She ignored him, her anger propelling her forward. She reached the house and climbed the stairs to her room, but just as she was about to close the door behind her, Damien stretched out a foot and blocked the frame.

"Move," she said, glaring at him.

"We need to talk," he said, his tone softer than she expected.

"I don't want to talk to you," she shot back. "Just go."

"Lena—"

"I said go!" she interrupted, turning her back to him. She heard him sigh, a sound heavy with frustration and something else she couldn't place.

There was a long pause, and for a moment, she thought he might argue. But then she heard him move.

The door clicked shut behind him, leaving her alone.

She exhaled shakily, her hands trembling as she pressed them to her temples. The silence in the room felt deafening, but it was better than the tension she'd felt with him standing there.

Her gaze drifted to the table by the window, where something new caught her eye. Frowning, she walked over and picked it up.

A phone.

It wasn't hers—it was far more expensive-looking than the one she used to have. Her fingers bridged across the surface and the screen lit up, displaying a single contact: Damien.

She stared at it for a long moment, tempted to press the number. She wanted to scream at him, to yell and demand explanations for everything. But another part of her—the part that felt the inexplicable pull toward him—wanted to hit the call button just to hear his voice.

In the end, she did neither. Instead, she set the phone down and sank onto the edge of the bed.

The phone buzzed softly, startling her. She picked it up, her heart racing as she saw the notification.

"Call me if you need anything."