Damien came out of the interrogation room, his thoughts a chaotic mess. Mira's last words echoed in his mind, haunting him like a lingering curse.
"His in you... always will be."
That voice—so calm, so certain—sent chills down his spine. No matter how hard he tried to shake it, her words stayed, ringing louder each time he replayed the moment in his head.
"Fuck!" Damien cursed inwardly.
Was his father truly inside him? That bastard's spirit, his essence his core...was it truly haunting him, corrupting him slowly until he became what he hated most. Damien hated that thought, yet deep down, he knew there was truth in it.
Ever since he was a child, people had whispered about how he was so much like his father. The same cold stare, the same prideful arrogance. But he'd always ignored them—what did they know about his father? They'd never met him. But now... now his stepmothers, the very women who knew his father intimately, were telling him the same thing.
"You act like him…" Mira's voice echoed.
Damien clenched his fists until his knuckles turned white. He didn't want to be like him. He hated him. That man was the reason everything was ruined—the reason he was like this. Yet, no matter how much he fought it, Damien felt his father's shadow looming over him.
"I'll kill them all."
That thought came unbidden, dark and hungry. His gaze shifted, landing on the picture of his next target—the third wife. He smiled coldly, thinking about the pain she caused. Most if the few people he ever called family were gone, destroyed by them.
"Time for revenge."
He felt something awaken inside him. A dark power, ancient and terrifying. He slowly whispered the words, "Your wish is my command."
Black lightning crackled around his arm, swirling like a storm. A dark, ominous aura enveloped him.
"It is done."
Damien smiled cruelly, knowing another of those filthy witches was as good as dead.
Third Wife's POV
I ran into the room with my daughter. Fear gripped my heart—an ominous premonition I couldn't shake off.
"There's no way… I must be hallucinating," I told myself, trying to put up a brave front.
No matter how I moved, how I stood, I felt like death itself had entered the room. Desperation clawed at my chest as I finally broke down and called for the FBI agents. They came, their presence offering some small comfort.
But it wasn't enough.
No amount of protection could stop the inevitable. I could feel it. I was going to die.
Suddenly, my body went limp.
"What...?"
Darkness swallowed me whole, and I fell.
Back to Damien
Damien stepped outside, savoring the fresh air like it was the first breath he'd taken in days.
News of the third wife's death traveled fast. They called the mysterious killer the "Death Messenger" or "Phantom Assassin."
Of course, Damien smiled at that. If only they knew.
Mira's death had been simple—too simple. But this… this was art. He was satisfied. For now.
He knew he'd have to stop soon. The authorities were already getting suspicious. The FBI was swarming the place, making it impossible to move freely. If he continued, they'd catch on.
But it didn't matter.
One by one, they'd fall.
He glanced around, his gaze landing on his sisters. It was strange, being the only one left connected by blood. Everyone else was gone.
"Feed me."
The voice returned.
"What do you want?" Damien asked.
"Food. A strong presence. I can't feed on the weak. Weaken him... and feed me. I will reward you."
Damien raised an eyebrow. Reward? This was the first time the voice spoke of rewards. He'd assumed it was a curse, some punishment tied to his father's bloodline. But if this power could give him something… it might be worth the risk.
"How difficult is it?"
"That depends… on you."
Damien sighed. He hadn't even seen the next person. But fate wasn't giving him time. From the corner of his eyes, he spotted one of his stepbrothers.
"No… no way. Could it be?"
"Feed me."
The stepbrother looked at Damien, the same fake bravado written all over his face. Damien laughed coldly.
"Damien… it's been a while."
"It has," Damien answered, voice devoid of warmth.
"I heard… about Mira."
"Did you?" Damien's eyes gleamed dangerously. "And what of it?"
His stepbrother flinched. "I'm not here to fight. I want to… I want us to talk."
"Talk? Since when did you want to talk? The last time we 'talked,' you left me bleeding on the floor."
"I was young. Stupid."
Damien laughed again. "Still are."
The stepbrother took a deep breath. "Father… he left us more than just wealth, you know? Secrets. Things you can't imagine."
Damien's ears perked up. "What are you talking about?"
"Something is hunting us. I know you feel it, too."
Damien smirked. "I'm not being hunted… I'm doing the hunting."
The stepbrother paled. "No, listen! This… thing… whatever it is, it wants us all dead. You think killing us will set you free? It won't. You're feeding it."
"Feeding it?" Damien's eyes narrowed.
"Yes. Every death makes it stronger."
Damien thought back to the voice. Feed me…
"Then what do you suggest?"
"We work together."
Damien laughed long and hard. "After everything, you want to team up? With me?"
"It's the only way," the stepbrother whispered.
Damien stared at him long and hard. "I'll think about it."
Damien sat in the dark, the voice whispering constantly.
"Kill him. Feed me. The reward awaits."
Damien didn't know what to do. Was this really his father's curse? Or was it something older, darker?
He felt his father's spirit laughing somewhere.
"You can't escape me, son."
No… Damien refused to be his father's puppet. He'd kill them all, but on his terms.
He stood up, determination in his eyes. "We'll see who uses who, father." With that Damien left the room only to be confronted by the worried face if his mother