The Last Shadow (Shadows and Strings #3)

Chapter 16

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Frankie

It’s been over a week, and Damien still won’t tell me about whatever dark secret he’s hiding. I tell myself it’s nothing, that it isn’t a colossal red flag begging me to bolt like my life depends on it. I mean, geez, we just got married.

And Damien is much too charming for me to even think of running for the hills. I love him. I just wish he would be honest with me.

But this morning, he’s gone again, so I pick up the phone to call Amelia. As the phone rings and I wait to hear the familiar warmth of her voice, I wonder if she’s someone I can trust or if she’s also part of the corruption.

It’s too late to question it, though. “Hey newlywed! I thought you forgot about us single people.” She laughs and the sound is so welcome I can almost see her in my mind’s eyes. “Kidding, of course. How are things?”

“Good,” I answer, but the word sounds like a lie, even to me.

“Good is not what I was expecting,” she replies easily. “I was thinking more like mind-blowing, insanely romantic or the best time ever. What’s up?”

I want to tell Amelia she’s been right all along, that Damien’s control over me runs deeper than I ever realized, but the words stick in my throat. I’m not ready to admit it, not even to myself, let alone say it out loud.

“It’s actually great here. Gorgeous and super romantic,” I say instead, the lie feeling heavier than I expected. “Damien’s off doing God knows what, so I figured I’d check in on you.”

“Oh, that’s sweet. I’m good. Bored out of my mind with you gone. No one else really cares about me. Except for Nick. He’s been keeping me company, surprisingly.”

A sharp pang hits me at that, but I push it down quickly. “Good for you,” I reply, trying to keep my voice light.

I don’t know who I can trust right now, but Amelia’s good at what she does. And I need her insight. “Actually, I’ve been thinking about the case, and I wanted your opinion. What if something happened to The Butcher, and now he’s out for revenge? Would that change his profile?”

There’s this long pause, and I start to think Amelia’s going to tell me to chill out and enjoy my getaway. But I hear her sigh, like she’s really thinking through it. “You know, that makes sense. If revenge is driving him, it could explain a lot. A mix of vengeance and psychopathy? That could really make for a dangerous killer.”

“Wait, really?” I sit up a little straighter, surprised by her insight. “Is there any way we could figure out which kid from Hope House fits that profile?”

“Honestly? Not without talking to them personally or knowing their backgrounds,” she says. “And the records are surprisingly slim. But if you’ve got a suspect in mind…hey, wait, you’re not suggesting that Damien could be involved in the murders, are you? You’re safe up there, right?”

A laugh escapes me. “Oh my God, no way! Are you kidding me? You’ve been diving into that psycho research a bit too long. I’m totally safe with my husband! I was just thinking about all those kids from Hope House. If we could dig into their pasts, we might learn something that ties into this revenge angle.”

“Okay, but if you notice anything weird, promise you’ll let me know? I can look into it on my end.”

“No weirdos here, Ames. Well, except me. But if you could look into that, it’d be super helpful.”

“Anytime, girl. You know I’m always here for you,” she says, her voice brightening up. “But seriously, Frankie, are you okay? Your voice sounds off.”

Taking a deep breath, I say, “Yeah, I’m fine, just feeling a bit out of it, being away from work with The Butcher still on the loose.” It’s mostly true, but not the whole truth. I can’t share everything with her. She jumped on Nick the second I left. Can I even trust her anymore?

“Totally get that. But for your sake, the case and your marriage, just… try , okay?” Her sincerity is a relief, and I nod, silently promising I’ll work on it, even if I keep my real struggles to myself.

“I promise I’ll try,” I reply, though my mind is already spiraling again. “Thanks, Ames. I really appreciate your help. I’ll let you know if I find anything.”

“Of course! Be safe, Frankie,” she says.

I silence my phone, tuck it into my pocket, and step out of the cabin for the first time in days, ready to clear my head.

As I walk onto the narrow trail behind the cabin, the crunch of dirt and pine needles under my boots is the only sound that breaks the stillness. The air is a little crisp, carrying the faint scent of pine and dirt. It’s peaceful, almost too peaceful, like the trees are holding their breath.

As I walk, the trees begin to thin out a little, giving way to glimpses of the lake between the trunks. It’s surprisingly still, almost like glass, reflecting the sky and trees perfectly. Not a ripple in sight. The colors out here are sharper, deeper—the blues of the lake, the greens of the towering pines. It’s beautiful. God’s country.

Standing here alone, it feels like I’m the only person in the world right now. There’s something about this view, about being here, that makes everything else feel far away. Almost like I could just disappear into it and leave everything behind.

Without the distraction of city life, I’m able to think clearly about, well, everything. Being here at the cabin has been great because I’ve put a lot of pieces of the puzzle together both in terms of The Butcher and in my own life.

The first few days with Damien were amazing and so incredibly romantic, full of delicious meals and lots of laughter as we settled into married life. The sex, of course, is off the charts and only seems to have gotten more intense since we got here.

But there’s a downside. Damien’s been leaving for the past few days for hours at a time, leaving me alone. I feel trapped, which I hate because it sounds dramatic and as if I don’t trust Damien. I do, of course, but something has to change.

Everything has changed . Before the wedding, when Damien and I were getting to know each other, life was different. It was full of fun and unexpected adventures. But now things feel strange and strained. And seriously, where the fuck is he going for hours when he’s supposed to be here with me?

I stop and look around, finding that I’ve wandered so far from the cabin that I can only see the top floor. It takes me close to an hour to make my way back, but I use the time to sort out my thoughts and feelings. It’s also enough time to get a good head of steam going and when I step inside to find my handsome husband smiling at me, I snap.

“Francesca! Did you have a pleasant walk?” His smile is irresistible, but right now it’s easy to resist, at least as long as I suppress my body’s reaction to him.

“Where have you been?” My tone is sharper than I mean it to be, and Damien notices immediately.

“What do you mean? I told you I had some business to take care of. Don’t you remember?” His brows dip, and he takes a few steps forward to comfort me.

I step back and shake my head. “I know what you told me, Damien, but you know what? I have work to do as well, yet you get up and leave without asking about my career!” My heart pounds and I lick my lips. “Why are you holding me captive here?”

“Captive?” He laughs, shaking his head. “You’re not captive. We can leave anytime. I thought you liked it here.”

The condescending tone makes my anger rise. “Only because I stupidly assumed we would be here together, Damien. Your job isn’t more important than mine.”

“Who said it was?” He comes closer until he’s close enough to touch me, and damn he smells good. “I love that you’re passionate about your career, that you chase bad guys and put them behind bars. I love it and admire it.”

“Then why am I still here?”

“I’m just looking out for you, kitten. If it’s too much for you, too mentally taxing, maybe you should take a leave of absence?”

I was just starting to relax in his arms, to let go of the tension, but my whole body goes taut, and I slowly pull back until our gazes lock. “What did you say?”

He holds up his hands, a look of genuine hurt on his face. “I’m not saying you have to or that you should, just that it’s an option. This case seems to take a toll on you, more than your usual cases. Am I right?”

I nod because he’s right, The Butcher case has been more difficult than my others, but it’s also my first serial killer. “Maybe all of this is too much, Damien.”

“That’s all I’m saying,” he agrees.

“I wasn’t finished,” I snap. “Maybe you’re right and the case is a lot, but that’s my job. Maybe the problem is getting into a relationship and getting married in the middle of such an important case.” I take a few more steps back and suddenly things are clearing up. “Maybe what we need is a break, at least until the case is over. Solved.”

“Is that really want you want?”

“I think it’s what I need, what we both need, actually. It’s clear you have other things going on, too. We’re both busy and maybe we should focus on what we do best. Work.”

His brows dip and he frowns, closing the gap between us once again. “That’s not what I want, Francesca. Is it what you want?”

“I know I don’t want to be an afterthought in my own damn house, Damien. We’re not ready for this.”

“That’s not true, my pet.” He’s there again, right in front of me with his muscular arms around me. “We are ready. I love you and you love me, hell you’re meant for me, kitten.”

When he says things like this, I feel like I’m being unreasonable, that I’m the crazy one here. It’s frustrating, feeling as if I’m not myself and I lean into him. “Damien, don’t.”

“Don’t what? Don’t tell you how I feel? Because I love you Francesca and I don’t feel so bad about our growing pains as a married couple. I don’t want to take a break and work. I want us to work. I need you.” His second hand slides up to cup my face, resting his forehead against mine. “If you don’t love me and you don’t want to make things work out, tell me what I can do.”

“I-I-I never said that.” Did I?

“Not in so many words, no.” His shoulders fall and he takes a step back, but he never stops touching me. “Let’s just take tonight to be together. I’ll heat the spa and open some champagne, see if we can get back to where we were. Can we do that?”

Everything in me wants to say yes, but I hesitate, anyway. I love this man, and I want him in my life and at my side. I can’t walk away from him, definitely over a few bumps. Can I? No.

I look at him, and the raw emotion in his eyes catches me off guard. He looks almost pained, like he’s afraid I’ll leave him. “I love you, Damien. I do.”

“Good.” His voice cuts through the moment, sharp and final, leaving no room for doubt. “Then let’s focus on that.”

The hot tub bubbles invitingly as I slip into the heated water, still a little angry about our fight but unable to resist when Damien hands me champagne, his eyes dark with intent. The mountain air nips at my wet skin, and the heat between us has nothing to do with the water temperature.

“Still mad at me, kitten?” His voice is silk over steel as he pulls me onto his lap. I should push away, should hold on to my anger about his mysterious disappearances, but his touch sets my skin on fire. The champagne bubbles tickle my nose as I take a long sip, buying time.

“Yes,” I manage, but my body betrays me as his hands grip my waist. The jets pulse against my back while steam rises around us, wrapping us in our private little world. Damien’s thumbs trace circles on my hips, making me shiver despite the heat.

“Let me make it better,” he commands rather than asks, typical Damien. His fingers dig into my flesh. “Show me you’re still mine. Even when you’re angry.”

I want to resist, to prove I’m not so easily controlled, but when he enters me, I can’t help the moan that escapes. The water makes everything slick as I take him deeper, my anger morphing into desperate need. The champagne has gone straight to my head, making everything feel dreamlike and intense.

“That’s it,” he growls, one hand fisting in my hair while the other grips my hip. “Look at me while you fuck me, Francesca. Show me who you belong to.” His eyes lock onto mine, filled with an undeniable possessiveness and something dark.

And flat out delicious.

“Damien…” I gasp as he hits that perfect spot. My hands brace against his broad shoulders, feeling the muscles flex beneath my fingers. He controls our pace, slower than I want, making me feel every inch.

“Say it,” he demands, holding me still when I try to move faster. “Tell me you’re mine. Only mine.”

“Please,” I whimper, trying to grind against him, but his grip is iron.

“Say. It.” His voice brooks no argument. Water laps at my breasts as I tremble in his grasp.

“I’m yours,” I say, and he rewards me by letting me move again. God help me, I love how he takes control, even as part of me rebels against it. My mind flashes to his earlier disappearance, but his touch drowns out my doubts.

The water churns around us as we chase orgasms together. His possessive touches, his commanding tone should frighten me by how much power he has over me. But it doesn’t. It actually drives me wild. Every brush of his fingers, every demanding kiss makes me forget why I was angry.

“Come for me, pet,” he orders, and my body obeys instantly, pleasure crashing through me as I cry out his name.

As we catch our breath, he brushes my lips with his thumb, his other hand still tangled in my hair. “You belong with me,” he says, and I shiver at the darkness in his tone. “No matter what happens, you’re mine, Francesca. Do you understand me?”

I should be terrified by how completely he owns me, by the possessive glint in his eyes. Instead, I melt into him, pushing away the warning bells in my head. Questions about where he goes, what he does can wait.

At least for tonight.

He reaches for the champagne, refilling our glasses. “To us,” he says, but it sounds more like a claim than a toast. I clink my glass against his, trying to ignore his earlier words.

No matter what happens.

What exactly does he think is going to happen?

And that’s when it dawns on me. This is all a game to him, the whole damn thing. Damien’s a master of seduction, and he uses it like a weapon to keep me on my toes.

Is he playing me?

Does he even love me?

I want to believe he does, but now I have a nagging thought there’s something darker at play.