The soft hum of the office lights did little to alleviate the growing tension that sat in the pit of Damien's stomach. His eyes traced the files spread across his desk, the weight of his responsibility pushing down on him. He'd grown used to the late nights, the cold coffee, the murmur of other detectives working around him, but tonight it felt different. Tonight, the air in the precinct was thicker, charged with an electricity that he couldn't shake.
Jonas was across the room, huddled with a few of the officers discussing the latest case developments. The murder, which had initially seemed like another routine job, was beginning to take an unsettling turn. Damien had noticed it the moment he arrived. The same eerie feeling he'd had as a teenager, as he stood over his father's bleeding body, now resurfaced. But this time, it wasn't his father's face staring up at him. This time, it was someone else's. And that someone, in some twisted way, was connected to him.
The victim had been killed with the same precision that Damien himself had once honed. The same cold, methodical approach that he'd inherited from the darkness inside him. But what unnerved him even more was the pattern emerging from the previous murders. A serial killer was on the loose, someone who was watching, waiting—perhaps even mimicking Damien's own early kills. The connection was undeniable, and yet, he couldn't allow himself to acknowledge it fully. If Jonas or anyone else picked up on it, the game would be over.
Damien's gaze flickered over to Cole's name on the caseboard. The thought of his son was like a bitter taste in his mouth, but it had to be done. He'd already begun the subtle manipulations, laying the groundwork for Cole to take up the mantle of the killer in his own twisted way. It wasn't as if he had a choice—he'd created this monster, after all. He knew Cole's darkness better than anyone else, and if he could push him just a little further, they could be an unstoppable force together. Damien had to guide him, teach him to wield the same power he'd wielded for so long.
"Damien," Jonas's voice cut through his thoughts, and Damien's spine stiffened. He turned slowly, offering a calm smile as Jonas approached him with a file in hand.
"Everything okay?" Jonas asked, his tone casual, though there was something in his eyes that suggested he had noticed Damien's mood shift.
"Just thinking," Damien replied, his voice steady but his insides churning. "The case is... complicated. But nothing we can't handle." He looked at the file Jonas was holding, knowing it was the most recent autopsy report. The body found in the alley last night—another victim, just like the others. But this one had been different.
Jonas placed the file on the desk and leaned in closer. "The pattern's starting to emerge," he said quietly. "All the victims have one thing in common—someone close to them, someone with the means to get close. And the method..." He paused, his eyes flickering over Damien's face. "It's clean. Too clean."
Damien felt a chill run down his spine. He could almost hear the echo of his own past in Jonas's words. "Too clean," he repeated, though he knew better than to admit what was running through his head. "I'll take a look at the details later. You keep on the victims, I'll focus on tracking the connections."
Jonas nodded, seemingly satisfied with the answer. "You got it. Just don't burn yourself out, Damien. We'll get this guy. We always do."
As Jonas walked away, Damien's gaze lingered on the file. He could feel the weight of the impending danger pressing down on him. Someone had picked up where he left off, someone was using the same methods he had perfected. The unsettling thought gnawed at him. Was it a copycat? Or was it something far more dangerous?
He opened the file, scanning the details with a practiced eye. As he read through the report, something caught his attention—a name. A name he knew far too well. The victim had once been connected to a family he'd come to know during his childhood. He'd met them years ago—before he had taken the final steps into his darker path. And now, the man who had once been a friend of his father's was dead, killed in the same method Damien had used on his father all those years ago.
The connection was undeniable. His past was coming back to haunt him, and there was no way to outrun it. He clenched his jaw, pushing aside the rising panic. If he was going to keep his secret hidden, he had to be more careful. He couldn't afford to slip up now—not with Jonas so close, not with the murders piling up.
Damien's thoughts were interrupted by the sharp ring of his phone. He picked it up without thinking, his voice steady. "Damien."
"Detective," the voice on the other end was calm, controlled, but Damien could hear the urgency behind it. "We've got another one."
His heart skipped a beat. "Another what?"
"The killer, sir. Another victim, same MO. But this one... it's personal."
Damien's pulse quickened, his mind racing. "Where?"
"Same alley, but this time—"
"Same method," Damien interrupted, already getting up from his chair. "I'm on my way. Don't touch anything."
He hung up the phone, his mind already spinning. This was it. The moment he'd been dreading. He had to go back to the scene, confront the reality of his actions, and ensure his past stayed buried.
As he walked toward the exit, Jonas looked up at him, sensing the change in Damien's demeanor. "You good?"
Damien nodded, a brief flicker of emotion passing across his face before he masked it with a calm expression. "I'll be fine. Just a few more questions to answer."
Jonas didn't push it, and Damien didn't wait around to explain. He didn't have time for questions, not now. Not with the killer's shadow creeping closer, inch by inch, to the life he'd built.
The case was spiraling out of control, but Damien wasn't about to let it all unravel. Not now. Not when everything he'd worked so hard to create was teetering on the edge. He had to find the killer first, before anyone else could put the pieces together. Before anyone realized that the face of the detective leading the investigation was the same face of the killer who had once been his own father's executioner.