The Darkest Hour

Chapter 6: The Line Between

I leaned against the precinct's coffee machine, watching the black liquid drip into my cup. Across the room, Damon was at his desk, flipping through a file. I tried to ignore the flicker of something that sparked whenever he looked at me with that steely gaze, but it was becoming harder to brush off. He'd been the one to take down our suspect last night—efficient, focused, and way too close for comfort.

Captain Morris's voice boomed as he came up to us, interrupting my thoughts. "The guy from last night won't talk, not a word about his connection to you or the killer. We're hitting a wall."

Damon put the file down and stood, his expression all business, but I noticed his gaze linger on me for a fraction longer than it needed to. "So, what's next?"

"I think it's time we push deeper," Morris replied. "We're dealing with someone who's planned this down to the last detail. If he thinks you're the weak link, Agent Malone, then you'll need to keep playing the role."

Great. I was supposed to be the damsel, still. Damon's mouth quirked up, catching the edge of my scowl. "What?" I asked, rolling my eyes.

"Nothing." He shrugged, a hint of amusement dancing in his eyes. "It's just... the idea of you as the weak link. Not exactly convincing, but I guess we can make it work."

Morris cleared his throat. "Olivia, you'll need to go undercover as a lone target. This killer's been leaving personal messages, so we're setting up a cover where you're... shaken, vulnerable, working alone. Damon, you'll be close by, undercover too."

I bit back a retort. I didn't want Damon hovering, but Morris was right. I'd need someone I could trust nearby, and as much as I hated to admit it, Damon was the only one I'd trust to watch my back. "Fine," I said, keeping my voice calm. "Let's do it."

Two nights later, Damon and I were set up in the dingiest hotel room I'd seen in a while. The room was small and dark, the single bed taking up most of the space, with a single window looking out onto a deserted street.

"This place is depressing," I muttered, tossing my bag on the bed.

Damon smirked, leaning against the door, his eyes catching mine. "Welcome to the glamorous life of undercover work. We're supposed to look like we're hiding out, right?"

I nodded, keeping my face neutral. "Exactly. Just a couple of agents holed up, waiting for the bad guy to show." I moved past him, trying to ignore the slight flutter in my stomach as our shoulders brushed. "So, you're my backup. Ever been anyone's bodyguard before?"

His smirk widened. "Not quite like this." He looked around, his gaze finally resting on me. "What's your story here? Scared ex-agent hiding out in the middle of nowhere?"

"Something like that." I crossed my arms, watching him as he moved closer, his face more serious than usual. "Do you actually believe this will work?"

His expression softened. "If you can pull it off, yes. Look, I know you hate playing the victim, but if we don't throw him off his game, he's going to keep pushing until he gets what he wants."

I sighed, my eyes lingering on him a moment longer than I'd meant to. "I know. I just—" The words caught in my throat. I looked away, trying to shake the feeling that was creeping in, that tug of something I didn't have time for. But his gaze was warm, steady, making it hard to ignore.

"Olivia," he said, his voice softer, almost gentle. "I know this isn't easy. But I'm here. I'm not going anywhere."

I forced a smirk, trying to lighten the moment. "Better be careful, Damon. People might think you actually care."

He didn't smile back; instead, his eyes held mine, unreadable. "Maybe I do," he murmured, the words barely above a whisper.

I swallowed, suddenly aware of how close he was standing. "We're just undercover," I said, trying to convince myself as much as him. "It's just... the job."

He nodded, his gaze flicking to my lips before he stepped back, breaking the spell. "Of course. Just the job."

But as he turned away, I knew it was already too late. Something had shifted between us, a line blurred by the tension, by the shared danger, by something that was supposed to stay buried. And as much as I tried to focus on the case, the threat outside these walls, I couldn't shake the feeling that the real danger was standing right next to me