Chapter 5 The Camera

Damian's Pov

Richard Hawkins stood in the doorway, tall and immaculate in his perfectly tailored suit. His silver-tipped hair was combed back, and his smile was calm, collected, and utterly terrifying.

"Damian," he said smoothly, stepping into the room. "I was hoping to find you awake."

My jaw tightened. "I'm always awake when you're prowling around."

"Prowling?" He laughed, the sound warm and fatherly. Anyone listening would have thought we were having a normal conversation. "I just wanted to check on you. I heard you had a... visitor last night."

My blood turned to ice. I kept my expression neutral. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Richard moved deeper into the room, his gaze sweeping over the rumpled sheets on my bed. His fingers traced the pillowcases, and I watched in horror as they paused on the very spot where Evi's head had rested.

"Your mother mentioned you were helping your stepsister adjust," he said, his voice conversational. "Sarah is very grateful. She's worried about Evi, you know. The poor girl has been through so much."

My throat was dry. "Evi is fine. She stays out of my way. I stay out of hers."

"And yet." Richard picked up a single strand of long, dark hair from the pillow. He held it up to the light, examining it with clinical interest. "I find it strange that a girl who 'stays out of your way' would leave her hair in your bed."

I didn't flinch. I didn't blink. But inside, my wolf was howling with fury.

"She had a nightmare," I said flatly. "She was crying. I told her to shut up and go back to her own room. She must have left some of her hair behind."

Richard's smile widened. "Is that so?"

"That's exactly so." I crossed my arms, forcing myself to meet his gaze. "You told me to keep an eye on her. I'm keeping an eye on her. That's all this is."

He studied me for a long moment, and I felt like a bug pinned under glass. He could see through me, he always could. But this time, I couldn't afford to break.

"Good," he finally said. "I'm glad you're taking this seriously. Evi is a special girl. I can feel it." His eyes flicked toward the closet, and my heart nearly stopped. "There's something different about her. Something... powerful."

"She's just a normal girl," I said quickly. "Nothing special about her."

Richard laughed again, but this time it was colder. "Oh, Damian. You know better than that. I've been tracking magic users my whole life. I can smell them from a mile away." He took a step closer, his voice dropping. "Your stepsister is a witch. A powerful one and she's been hiding it from everyone."

I forced my expression to remain blank. "Evi is not a witch. She's just a scared girl who lost everything."

"She's a liar," Richard said softly. "Just like her mother. And like her mother, she's going to learn what happens to witches in this town."

My wolf lunged. I shoved it down, gritting my teeth. "You can't just accuse people of being witches without proof."

"I don't need proof. I need results." He moved toward the door, pausing with his hand on the handle. "Keep her close, Damian. Watch her. I want to know everything she does, everyone she talks to, every secret she thinks she's hiding."

"Why?"

Richard turned to face me, and for a moment, his mask slipped. I saw the hunger in his eyes—the cold, calculating hunger of a man who had been hunting for something his entire life.

"Because," he said, "if she's as powerful as I think she is, she might be exactly what I've been looking for."

He left before I could respond, the door clicking shut behind him.

I stood frozen for a full thirty seconds, listening to his footsteps fade down the hallway. Then I moved.

I ripped the closet door open, pulling Evi out by her wrist. She was pale, her eyes wide with terror, her body trembling against mine.

Evi pulled away from me, wrapping her arms around herself. "So what do we do now?"

"We'll figure it out," I said, stepping back. "But first, we need to play by his rules. We need to make him believe we hate each other."

She nodded slowly. "Okay. I can do that."

"Good." I moved to the window, staring out at the dark yard. "There's something else you need to know. My father has been watching you. The cameras in your room, the ones you thought were hidden—they're everywhere. He's been monitoring your every move."

Evi's face went pale. "How do you know?"

"Because I just found one in my room." I pointed to the ceiling, where a small camera had been hidden behind the vent. "He's been watching us, Evi. The whole time."

She followed my gaze, her expression hardening. "Then we give him something to watch." She crossed to the center of the room, looking up at the camera with a cold smile. "He wants a show? We'll give him one."

"What are you doing?"

"Making him believe we hate each other." She turned to face me, her arms crossed, her expression shifting into one of pure contempt. "You're right. He's watching. So let's give him exactly what he expects."

I understood. Forcing myself to match her energy, I sneered. "You're pathetic, you know that? You come into my house, thinking you belong here. But you don't. You never will."

Evi's eyes flashed with something that looked almost real. "I didn't ask to be here. I didn't ask to be stuck with a self-centered, arrogant jerk like you."

"Then leave." I stepped closer, my voice dripping with venom. "No one's stopping you."

"You know I can't." Her voice cracked, and I felt the real pain behind it. "You know I have nowhere to go."

I reached out, grabbing her wrist. The contact sent a jolt through both of us, and I saw her falter. For a moment, the mask slipped. She was scared, and she was trying so hard to hide it.

"I hate you," she whispered, and I knew she meant it.

"I hate you too," I lied.

We stood there for a long moment, the bond humming between us, the camera watching from above. And I hated myself for what I was about to say.

"Stay out of my way," I said coldly. "And maybe—just maybe—I'll let you survive the year."

She pulled away, walking toward the door. I watched her go, my heart racing. Then she paused.

"Goodbye, Damian." She said it like it really was goodbye.

The door closed behind her.

I collapsed against the wall, my chest heaving. The bond was pulsing with her pain, her anger, her fear. I felt everything she felt, and it was tearing me apart.

I pushed off the wall and pulled the camera down from the vent. It was small and discreet, its red light blinking steadily. My father's face was probably on the other end, watching me destroy the proof.

But I didn't care anymore. The cameras were only part of the problem. The real threat was my father himself.

I crushed the camera in my palm, blood dripping from my knuckles. Then I whispered to the empty room:

"He knows everything."