The Last Shadow (Shadows and Strings #3)

Chapter 1

CHAPTER ONE

Frankie

My life is ash. Everything I’ve built, worked for—gone. All those years, all that hard work, reduced to nothing in a single instant.

I stand in front of what used to be my home. My cute little two-story house, the place I saved for, renovated, and decorated. It’s nothing now—just a charred skeleton of blackened beams against the gray sky. My chest tightens with every breath, the pain settling deep inside, and it’s almost too much to bear.

Tears slide down my face, but I don’t feel them. I can’t feel anything right now. It’s like the world is moving in slow motion, everything muted, like someone hit a switch and I’m watching it all from a distance. Numb. Lost.

A few feet away, Jay stands quietly. He’s never quiet, always running his mouth or throwing out some dumb joke to lighten the mood. But not now. He knows there’s no joke that can fix this, no words that can make it better.

I clench my fists at my sides, trying to keep it together, but the anger bubbles up inside me, burning hotter than the fire that took my house.

“Fuck,” I whisper, the word slipping out before I can stop it. But it’s not enough. I want to scream. I want to tear the whole world apart because everything I’ve built has been ripped away from me. “FUCK!”

And then, just like that, Damien’s voice creeps into my mind. The way he snapped at me earlier. The way he stormed out, slamming the door behind him, leaving me standing there, heartbroken and alone. If Jay hadn’t shown up, I’d still be sitting on the floor, sobbing in the apartment we share, wondering how it all went so wrong.

A car door slams in the distance, breaking through the haze in my mind. I look up, and Damien’s rushing toward me, his face full of concern. It feels like a bad dream, watching him come closer. All I can think about is the fight. His angry words still sting like a fresh slap across my face.

“Francesca,” he calls out, breathless as he reaches me. “I’m so sorry. I came as soon as I heard. Are you okay?”

A bitter laugh escapes me, sharp and humorless. “My house just burned to the ground, so no. Not really.”

Damien flinches but recovers quickly, running a hand through his dark hair. “Yeah, stupid question. I just?—”

He trails off, and for a moment, I think I see genuine regret in his eyes. But it’s not enough to fix this. Nothing can fix this.

“I’m sorry, Francesca. I was a total ass earlier. I shouldn’t have yelled; shouldn’t have left you like that. Can you forgive me?”

Forgive him? My insides twist into knots. I stare at him, my emotions swirling. Rage, hurt, confusion. I don’t know what to feel. I don’t know how to feel. Part of me wants to scream at him, lash out, tell him how much he hurt me. But another part—this small, broken part—just wants to crumble into his arms, to let him carry the weight of this for me.

“I don’t know, Damien.” My voice cracks, raw from crying, from the exhaustion that’s settling in. “I just…I can’t right now. My life…everything I worked for…it all just went up in flames.”

He nods. “I know. Whatever you need, my pet. Just say the word.”

I let out a slow breath, trying to find something solid to hold on to, but it’s like the ground has been ripped out from under me. I don’t know how to move forward. I don’t even know where to start.

“What I need,” I say softly, “is time. Time to figure out what the hell I’m going to do next.”

Damien doesn’t push. He just nods, his face somber. “Of course. I’m here, kitten. Whatever you need.”

I glance at the ruins of my house again, and it’s like a punch to the gut. All my hard work, my memories are gone. Just like that. Poof. Ashes. I feel as if I am free-falling, spiraling, and there is nothing to hold onto to stop the descent.

Damien’s hand slides into mine. “Come home with me, Francesca.”

My body stiffens. My mind screams at me to push him away, to tell him to go fuck himself. But I can’t. I’m tired. So fucking tired. I don’t have the energy to fight anymore. Not now. Not after this.

“Okay,” I whisper, my voice cracking. “Let’s go.”

We start walking toward his car, but Jay steps forward. “Frankie, wait.” He touches my shoulder, and the warmth of his hand is grounding.

“I know you’re going through a lot,” he says softly. “I just want to make sure you’re okay.”

I manage a small smile, but it’s weak, hollow. “I appreciate it, Jay. Really. We’re going to Damien’s place. It’s all I’ve got right now.”

Jay nods, his eyes full of unspoken worry. “Okay. But if you need anything, anything at all, call me. Got it?”

“Got it.” I squeeze his hand. “Thanks, Jay. For everything.”

He pulls me into a quick hug. “Anytime, partner. You know I’ve got your back.”

As Jay steps away, Damien wraps an arm around my waist, guiding me to the car. His touch is comforting. My mind screams that I shouldn’t find solace in him, not after everything that’s happened, but I can’t help it. Not now. Not after losing everything.

Before we reach the car, Fire Chief O’Malley walks up, his face grim. “Detective DeMarco, I’m sorry for your loss. We managed to get the fire under control, but there’s not much left.”

I swallow the lump in my throat, my voice shaky. “Any idea what caused it?”

He shakes his head. “Too early to say for sure, but it looks like arson. The fire started in the back. We’ll need to do a full investigation.”

My stomach churns. The Butcher. Could he have done this? Is this his twisted way of coming after me? But I can’t say it out loud. Not yet. Not without proof.

“Thanks, Chief,” I manage to say, trying to keep my voice from breaking. “Please keep me updated.”

“Of course.” He gestures to one of the firefighters standing nearby. “I’ll have someone walk you to your car. Just to be safe.”

I nod, appreciating the gesture, but knowing deep down it won’t be enough. If the Butcher is behind this, he’s watching. I can feel it. He’s out there, somewhere, waiting for his next move.

Damien opens the passenger door, his movements careful, like he’s handling something fragile. Before I climb in, I turn to him, my voice barely a whisper. “Damien, about earlier…”

He rests his hand on my shoulder, his touch gentle. “You don’t have to explain. I know things got heated, and I’m sorry. I should have been there for you.”

A wave of doubt washes over me, but I push it aside. “I don’t know, Damien. Everything’s just so confusing.”

He pulls me into his arms, his hand moving in slow, comforting circles on my back. “I know, Francesca. You’ve been through hell and back. But I’m here. I’ll always be here. You can trust me.”

I want to believe him. For a second, I let myself melt into his embrace, the comfort too tempting to resist. “I do trust you,” I whisper. “I’m sorry about earlier, too.”

He pulls back slightly, just enough to look me in the eyes. “No need to apologize. Just know I care about you more than anything. My only goal is to protect you.”

I nod, feeling some of the weight lift, but there’s still doubt gnawing at me. Maybe I was wrong. Maybe those pictures weren’t what I thought. I just need to find this killer. I need it all to end.

“Let’s get you home,” Damien says softly, helping me into the car. “You need rest.”

As we drive away, I close my eyes and try to block out the chaos, but the thoughts keep coming. I’ve lost my home, my memories, and I almost lost Damien.

All because of a stranger. A faceless killer I can’t even begin to identify.

And that’s the scariest part of all.