Elena's pov

Damien's apartment building looked worse than I remembered, the peeling paint and flickering hallway lights buzzing like dying insects.

Nothing like the life he pretended to have.

I'd been calling him for an hour, but no response. 5 missed calls, 7 ignored texts.

Now I stood outside apartment 4B, knocking hard enough to rattle the door.

Nothing.

I banged again, harder. “Damien, I know you're in there, your car is outside. Open the door."

Nothing again. Then I heard ...