The Ghost Behind The Glass

Damien Vale

She thought she had escaped him. She thought distance and silence could sever what existed between them.

How naïve.

Damien had never stopped watching. He knew where she slept, what she ate, the books she tried to bury herself in, and the new routines she formed with Christopher. Her every breath was accounted for.

He had learned patience.

He didn't show up. Didn't storm her world or leave her messages.

No. He became air.

Invisible. Constant. Consuming.

He had men on rotation, discreet and skilled. They monitored her apartment. They shadowed Christopher. A second phone held nothing but encrypted updates, photos, clips. Even the way she hugged herself at night, as if holding in pieces that wanted to fall apart—he watched it.

He knew her more now than he did when he had her beneath him.

And every time she smiled at Christopher, every moment she looked like she was healing—it twisted something deeper in Damien.

She was getting used to a world without him.

He let her pretend.

But that was all it was—pretend.

Because in the end, there was no "without him."

Only distance.

And distance… could be closed.

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