Chapter 219 Who’s hunting him?
Aria’s POV
"Relax," a voice said from the darkness. Male. Unfamiliar. "I’m not going to hurt you."
I spun back around, yanking the pistol from my waistband and aiming it into the shadows. My hands were steady now, adrenaline sharpening everything into perfect clarity.
"Who the hell are you?" I demanded. "Where’s Damian?"
A low chuckle echoed through the darkness.
"He’s safe. For now."
"Show yourself," I snapped. "Or I swear to God, I’ll start shooting."
"With silver bullets, no less." The voice sounded almost... impressed. "You came prepared. Smart."
There was a soft click, and suddenly the room flooded with light.
A man stood across from me—tall, broad-shouldered, with dark hair and sharp features that looked vaguely familiar in a way I couldn’t quite place. He didn’t look threatened by the gun pointed at his chest. If anything, he looked pleased.
"Put the gun down, Aria," he said calmly.
"Not a chance." My finger hovered over the trigger. "Start talking. Who are you? Where’s Damian?"
The man’s smile widened slightly. "You really love him, don’t you?"
The question caught me off guard. "What?"
"Damian." He tilted his head, studying me like I was some kind of interesting puzzle.
"You drove out here in the middle of the night, armed yourself with silver, walked into an obvious trap—all for him. That’s either love or stupidity."
My jaw clenched. "I don’t know what kind of game you’re playing—"
"No game," he said simply. "And no more questions—not here."
He turned and pressed his palm against a panel on the far wall. Something clicked, and a section of the brickwork slid aside with a low grinding sound, revealing a passage descending into darkness.
"Come with me. I’ll take you to Damian."
I let out a sharp, disbelieving laugh. "Right. Follow the stranger who lured me into an abandoned mill down a creepy underground tunnel. Do I look that stupid to you?"
He reached into his jacket—my grip tightened on the gun—but what he pulled out wasn’t a weapon.
It was a ring. Damian’s engagement ring—its band engraved with a thin crescent moon on the inside.
My breath caught.
He never took it off. Never. Not once since the day I’d slid it onto his finger.
"He gave me this himself," the man said quietly. "You know he’d sooner lose the hand than let anyone take it from him."
He was right. Damn him, he was right.
I lowered the gun—halfway. "If you’re lying to me, I will put a silver bullet through your heart."
"Noted." He almost smiled, then stepped into the passage. "Keep the gun if it makes you feel better."
I followed him, every nerve on edge. The tunnel was long and cold, the walls damp concrete, our footsteps echoing. Neither of us spoke.
Ten minutes. Fifteen. My sense of direction dissolved somewhere in the dark.
Then the passage sloped upward, and we emerged through a steel hatch into open night air.
I stopped dead.
We were standing in a wide clearing I’d never seen before—flat, empty land ringed by black forest, nowhere near the mill’s grounds.
And in the center of the clearing, rotors already turning lazily against the moonlit sky, sat a helicopter.
"Get in," the man said over the building whine of the engine.
I hesitated one last second—then thought of the ring around his fingers—and climbed aboard.
The helicopter lifted off, the ground falling away beneath us. Only then did the man pull off his headset and look at me like a person instead of a puzzle.
"My name is Ronan," he said. "Damian and I grew up together. He’s the closest thing I have to a brother."
"Then why the hell—" My voice shook with all the fear I’d been swallowing for hours. "The messages, the mill, the locked door—was that fun for you?"
"No." His expression sobered. "It was a test. And I’m not proud of it."
"A test?"
"I had to know how much you love him. Not what you’d say—what you’d actually do for him, alone, terrified, with no one watching." He held my gaze, unflinching. "I couldn’t afford to be wrong about you. Not now."
"Why?" I demanded. "Why does it even matter?"
Something in his gray eyes made my stomach drop before he even spoke.
"Because Damian is being hunted, Aria. Right now. There are people who want him dead—and they’re getting closer."
The world seemed to tilt.
Hunted.
I stared at him, the rotor noise roaring in my ears, my hands going cold around the gun in my lap.
"Who?" I whispered. "Who’s hunting him?"
Ronan held my gaze for a long moment, then shook his head slowly.
"That’s not mine to tell." He turned to look out at the darkness rushing past the window. "Ask him yourself. We’ll be there soon."