CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
EMMA
I wake up slowly to sunlight.
The sunlight is not the sharp, accusing kind that means I've overslept.
It's the soft kind that slides through the curtains and rests on the wall like it's waiting for permission to move.
For a second, I don't know what day it is.
Then my phone vibrates on the nightstand. I pick it up and check the notification, and the world clicks back into place.
Wednesday.
I sit up slowly, stretching my arms over my head. My body feels… light. Not sore. Not heavy. Just awake. Clean, somehow, like I've just come back from a long vacation I don't remember booking.
"That's new," I murmur.
I swing my legs off the bed and stand. The floor is cool under my feet. The air smells like morning and city dust and something faintly floral drifting in through the window from a neighbor's balcony.
I glance at the clock.
It's 7:20. Good timing. I have one hour to get dressed for work.
In the bathroom, my reflection looks brighter than I expect. Not glowing. Not dramatic. Just… rested. My eyes are clear. The dark circles that usually cling to the corners like stubborn shadows are gone.
"Okay," I say to myself. "Who are you, and what have you done with Emma?"
I shower, humming without realizing it. The water feels good. Normal.
I dress in my usual work clothes, hair pulled back, light makeup, nothing fancy.
By the time I grab my bag, I feel ready in a way I haven't in a while.
Outside, the city is already awake. Cars slide past in steady lines. I look to my left and see someone arguing into a phone.
A food cart on the corner sends up the smell of coffee and something fried, stealing my attention.
I walk up to the cart and buy a cup.
It tastes better than it should.
At CrownWave, the lobby is busy. The receptionist looks up and smiles.
"Morning, Emma."
"Morning," I say, surprised at how easy the word feels.
We exchange pleasantries for a few minutes, and I walk toward the elevator.
Inside, I catch my reflection in the mirrored wall again. There's something different about me. Not visible. Just a sense of being… reset.
The doors open on my floor, and I step out.
The office hums the way it always does. Phones ringing. Keyboards tapping. People leaning over desks, trading quiet complaints about deadlines and meetings.
"Look who decided to rejoin the world," Harper calls from across the room, standing from her chair and walking toward me.
I grin. "Miss me?"
She laughs, and we hug.
"Only because I had to steal your stapler."
I smile and walk to my desk.
I drop my bag.
Everything is exactly where I left it. Mug. Notebook. Monitor dark and waiting.
Ashley looks up from her screen when I sit.
"You're in early," she says.
I check the time. It's 8:45. I'm fifteen minutes early.
"So are you."
She shrugs. "How have you been? We were worried about your absence. You need to see HR to clear things up."
"Sure, I will," I say.
I remember the last time I was in the office was Friday. I must have been so tired when I left. I must have slept for days.
I notice Ashley studying me, so I murmur something about going to HR later, after I clear my desk and sort out my unread emails.
I study her for a second under my lashes. There's something steady about her. Like she's anchored in a way the rest of us aren't.
"Did I miss anything exciting?" I ask, pushing my confusion about the past few days aside.
Harper snorts. "The CEO is missing."
I blink. "What?"
"Not missing missing," she says. "Just… absent. No Damien. No emails. No messages. No dramatic entrances."
Ashley adds, "No one can reach him."
That gives me pause.
"That's not normal," I say.
"Tell that to Legal," Harper replies. "They're pacing."
The morning crawls.
People keep glancing toward the elevators like Damien might appear just to prove a point.
He doesn't.
By noon, the absence becomes a bigger problem.
Invoices pile up. Approvals stall. A meeting gets rescheduled because no one has the authority to make a final call.
Claire from HR moves through the floor with her polite smile set just a little too tight.
"Everything's fine," she keeps saying.
No one believes her.
I return to my desk after sorting things out with HR. It's decided that five days' wages will be deducted from my salary, and I accept the outcome. It's better than being laid off.
At my desk, I try to focus, but the energy feels off. Not tense. Not frantic.
Just… incomplete.
Like a song missing its last note.
Ashley leans over. "You okay?"
"Yeah," I say. "Just feels weird."
"Welcome to CrownWave," she replies dryly.
"Maybe he's sick," John says, walking up.
"Maybe he's out of the country," Frederick adds.
"Maybe he finally scared himself," Harper says, and a few people laugh.
I don't add anything. I just listen.
When five o'clock rolls around, people leave slower than usual, like they're waiting for something to happen.
Nothing does.
DAMIEN
The lights in my house are off. Not dimmed. Off.
The city outside bleeds in through the windows anyway, neon and headlights cutting pale lines across the walls. The security system hums low beneath the silence, a reminder that even empty things can still be guarded.
I sit in the center of the room.
Chains coil around my wrists and ankles, cold metal biting into skin that refuses to bruise the way it should. They're anchored into the floor and the beams above, not to keep me from leaving, but to keep me from moving when the hunger spikes.
Because if I move, I go.
And if I go, I don't come back alone.
My jaw tightens.
Her name pushes up again.
Ashley.
"Don't," I mutter to the empty room.
The hunger answers anyway. Not as a voice. As a pull. A direction. Like gravity suddenly decided where it wants me to fall.
I lean forward, chains clinking softly.
The table across from me is bare except for my phone. It's been there all day. I haven't touched it.
I don't trust myself to.
Footsteps echo upstairs. I don't need to look to know who it is.
The door opens.
Eric stands in the frame, light from the hall spilling in behind him. He takes in the chains, the dark room, the tension in the air, and exhales slowly.
"You've really committed to the aesthetic," he says, walking in.
"Lock the door," I say.
He does.
The click sounds too final.
He steps closer, cautious. "You missed three board calls."
"I know."
"Legal is panicking. And the poor company of yours may go under. Not that you need it anyway."
"Good," I say. "You know it's my plaything. Acquired to be close to Ashley."
He stops a few feet away. "Damien, we both know this isn't control. This is damage management."
I laugh once, short and sharp. "Welcome to my life."
He studies me. "Is it her?"
I don't answer.
That's answer enough.
Eric rubs a hand over his face. "You can't just vanish. You own half the city. People notice when gravity disappears."
"Then let it orbit something else for a while."
"You're serious?"
"Yes."
He glances at the phone on the table. "You haven't even checked messages."
"I won't."
"Because if you do, you'll go to her."
"Yes," I say, lowering my head.
Eric's jaw tightens. "Then we're past subtlety."
He steps forward. I feel the shift in the air, the way my presence presses back instinctively.
He holds up a hand. "Don't."
I still.
"Good," he says. "Because if you lose control in here, we both lose something we can't replace."
I lean back against the tension of the chains. "You didn't come to lecture me."
"No," he admits. "I came to take your chair."
The words hang between us.
"Say it again," I say quietly.
"I'm stepping in," Eric repeats. "Acting CEO. Temporary. All your companies. Clean. Legal. The board will accept it if you don't contradict me."
"And if I do?"
"You won't," he says. "Because this is the only way you get the space you're pretending you don't need. And remember, I have mine too. This is just saving face for you."
I stare at him.
He meets my gaze without flinching. Always did have that problem.
"Then do, by all means," I say, knowing he's just helping.
Silence stretches.
The hunger surges again, sharper this time, like something noticed the conversation and didn't like being ignored.
I inhale slowly through my nose. Hold it. Release.
"You take the company."
Eric lets out a breath he didn't know he was holding. "For how long?"
"As long as it takes for this to stop trying to tear me in half."
"And when it doesn't?"
"Then you'll have my job permanently."
He snorts. "Don't say things like that. Makes it sound like I'm rooting for you to fail. We both know it will stop. I'll send you four virgins. You should be fine in less than a month."
I snort. We both know it's more than just any virgin.
He steps closer, lowering his voice. "Is it just her?"
"No," I say. "But she's the center of it."
"What is she to you?"
I hesitate.
That alone is dangerous.
"I don't know yet," I admit. "That's the problem."
Eric studies my face. "You look like someone who's finally met a rule he can't break."
"Or a rule that's breaking me," I say as another spike of hunger coils through my chest.
I grip the chain, metal biting into my palm.
"Did you tell the others?" I ask.
"Jordan and Mason know you're offline. That's all."
"Good."
He nods. "I'll handle the press. The board. The mess."
"Don't touch Ashley," I say. "I might not know what this is, but others can't have her."
Eric stills. "I wasn't planning to."
"Promise me."
He looks at me, really looks, and something in his expression shifts.
"I promise," he says.
I release a breath I didn't realize I was holding.
He turns toward the door, then pauses. "You know this isn't just hunger, right?"
I close my eyes briefly. "Yes."
"It's fear," he continues. "You're scared of what you'll become if you reach for her."
I open my eyes. "No."
"Then why chain yourself down instead of leaving the city?"
Because if I leave, she becomes a destination.
And if I stay, she remains a choice.
"Just go," I say, remembering Lilith's warning to keep my distance.
Eric nods once and unlocks the door.
Before he steps out, he glances back. "Try not to tear the house apart. Insurance hates acts of the supernatural."
The door closes.
I am alone again.
The chains hum softly.
I lean forward, resting my forehead against the cold metal.
"Don't," I whisper into the dark.
The hunger doesn't answer.
It just waits.
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