living Ghost

Marian's POV

The room felt too still. The air, once comfortable, now carried a lingering chill, as if the presence of that man—Damien—had tainted it. My fingers twitched at my sides, my mind running in circles, trying to piece together the weight behind Summer's reaction.

She hadn't moved from her spot. Arms crossed, jaw clenched, her usual sharp eyes clouded with something I couldn't quite name. But it wasn't shock. No, she hadn't been caught off guard—she'd been expecting something. And that made me even more uneasy.

I took a step toward her, keeping my voice calm but firm.

"Start talking, Summer," I said. "Who the hell was that?"

She let out a sharp exhale, rubbing her temple like my question had physically pained her.

"Damien Harlow," she muttered, voice laced with irritation.

The name meant nothing to me, but the way she said it—like it was venom on her tongue—told me everything I needed to know.

I frowned. "And?"