Afterlight ✔️

chapter fifty-eight

— Jay Bieber

I checked my pocket and felt the crumpled note the girl had slipped me earlier. My stomach churned. I already knew this was a bad idea, but something pushed me to open it anyway.

"Meet me by the rec yard fence tonight", it said. I sighed, knowing where this was heading but curious enough to see it through.

Later that night, I slipped away to the fence. She was already there, leaning against it like she owned the place. Her eyes locked on mine, and I could see the intention in them. But the moment she leaned in, her lips inches from mine, I took a step back.

"I'm not interested," I said firmly, holding up a hand between us.

She smirked, her lips twisting into a mocking grin. "I've heard about you. But I didn't think you'd actually turn down a girl."

"I'm happy with my girlfriend," I replied, my voice cool but steady. I wasn't about to let her get under my skin.

Her smirk faded. "Oh, that Romano girl. Right." She said Chloe's name like it was some kind of curse, something dirty. My jaw tightened, but I didn't take the bait.

That's when a flash of memory hit me—my mom's voice, soft and reassuring, filled with warmth. *"You treat girls with respect, Justin. They deserve kindness, always."* I'd been sitting at the kitchen table, barely paying attention, but her words had stuck. Then, like always, my dad stormed in, snatching the air out of the room.

"Don't listen to that," he said, his voice hard. "Girls don't want respect, they want control. You give them an inch, and they'll take everything."

That was my first lesson in how not to treat women. And for a long time, I believed him. Until Chloe. She changed everything I thought I knew.

Before I could snap back to reality, the sound of guards' boots echoed in the distance. I froze, and the girl's eyes widened in mock innocence.

"Shit," I muttered under my breath. The guards were already on us.

"There they are," one of the guards shouted. "What the hell are you doing over here?"

The girl immediately stepped back, throwing her hands up. "It wasn't me," she said, pointing at me. "He made me come."

I stared at her, disbelief boiling inside me. Of course, she was going to throw me under the bus. I didn't even bother defending myself, just handed the guard the crumpled note she'd given me.

The guard narrowed his eyes as he read the note, then glanced at me, his expression softening a bit. "You're not in trouble, Bieber," he said, folding the note and pocketing it. "That girl's got a history of sneaking over to the guy's side. But you—you're wanted for something else."

I was too tired to even ask what he meant. They led me through the halls, past the dull gray walls and flickering lights until we reached one of the officer's offices. My mind was racing. I figured it was just another routine check, or maybe more questions about Brad's murder.

But when I stepped inside, my heart sank.

Sitting across from the officer, dressed in his usual suit, was Damien.

"Hello, brother," he said, his voice like poison dipped in honey. His smile was cold, calculated.

* * *

I sat across from Detective Lane, the one person in this building I could trust. Her sharp gaze drilled into me as she sat down, coffee in hand, already tapping her pen on the edge of her notebook.

"We both know who's responsible for Brad's murder," she began, her voice low. "Damien's a professional, though. His body count's climbing—a lot of people mysteriously died since his girlfriend's death."