C10 The Things We Bury

The wineglass still lay shattered on the hardwood floor, forgotten. A red stain was slowly blooming into the edge of Lauren’s cream rug, but she didn’t move. Her phone sat inches from her hand, the anonymous message still glowing on the screen:

“We need to talk about what we know. Time’s running out.”

Her chest tightened. The wording wasn't vague it was deliberate. It wasn’t just about what they knew… it was about what she had buried. And whoever sent it had dug far enough to know there was something to find.

She pressed her hands against her temples and tried to steady her breathing. She hadn’t felt this hollow in years.

Not since before New York.

Not since before Damien.

Lauren stood up slowly, ignoring the sharp crunch of glass beneath her sock. Her mind had already started sorting the past into neat, painful rows. Her connection to Damien hadn’t been some random coincidence it was a thread from a life she’d hoped she had outrun. A decision made out of desperation and fear. One that was catching up with her now.

She hadn’t known the full extent of who Damien was when she met him. Not really. He was charismatic, sharp, well-dressed, and just dangerous enough to make her feel like she mattered. When he’d told her he could help her out of debt when he’d dangled promises of a better life, a fresh start she hadn’t asked questions.

And by the time she realized what he really did for money, she was in too deep.

What scared her most wasn’t that Damien was back. It was that he knew exactly how to find her. And worse, who she cared about now.

Rose.

Sweet, soft-spoken, guarded Rose. She didn’t deserve any of this. And Lauren hated herself for the guilt that had been slowly blooming since the moment Rose first mentioned Damien’s name.

It had been her idea to bring Rose into that internship.

Her idea to push her closer to Bishop.

And now, everything was spinning.

She grabbed her phone, opened her encrypted notes folder, and stared at a name she hadn’t looked at in almost two years:

“Victor ‘Damien’ Kale – alias D. Varo”

She had saved the number once, stupidly thinking she might need it. Or maybe she hadn’t been ready to let go of that part of herself yet. Either way, it was proof now. A thin link to something much darker than Rose imagined.

Lauren moved to her laptop and opened a blank email. She didn’t know how to say it all at once, but she needed to start.

She needed to warn Bishop.

Or Rose. Or both.

But as her fingers hovered over the keys, a quiet knock echoed through her apartment.

She froze.

Another knock. This time firmer.

Her heart leapt into her throat.

She stood, grabbing a small metal flashlight from the bookshelf a poor excuse for protection but better than nothing. She crept to the door, her breathing shallow.

“Who is it?” she asked, voice tighter than she wanted.

A pause.

Then a low voice replied, “I’m not here to hurt you.”

She recognized it immediately.

Bishop.

She let out a shaky breath and opened the door.

He stood there, dark and sharp in a tailored black coat, the edge of tension carved into his jawline. His eyes scanned her quickly first for signs of distress, then for something deeper.

“I think we need to talk,” he said simply.

Lauren stepped aside and let him in.

She didn’t ask how he knew to come. She was almost too scared to find out.

Lauren locked the door behind him, trying to slow the pounding of her heart. Bishop walked into her apartment like a man who already knew what storm was about to break his calm only made it worse.

He didn’t sit. He didn’t remove his coat.

Just stood there.

Watching.

Waiting.

“I got a message tonight,” Lauren finally said, her voice quiet. “From someone who knows about Damien.”

The name alone changed his expression. Bishop’s jaw flexed, and his eyes narrowed in that way that made people step back. But Lauren didn’t. Not tonight.

“I didn’t know he was connected to what’s been happening,” she said quickly, her hands shaking now. “Not until Rose said his name. And even then, I tried to pretend maybe it wasn’t that Damien.”

“But it is,” Bishop said evenly.

She nodded.

“I knew him. A while back. It wasn’t serious not at first. But I was younger. Stupid. Drowning in credit card debt and waiting tables. He made it easy to say yes.”

Bishop stayed silent, which made it harder.

“I didn’t know what he really did. He was... careful. Gentle. For months, he was just this man who liked expensive wine and read poetry out loud in bars.”

“You’re not the only woman he played,” Bishop said. “But that doesn’t mean you’re not in danger now.”

Lauren looked away. “I think I already am.”

She walked over to the shattered wineglass and crouched, gathering the largest pieces into her palm like a ritual. “He knows where I live. He knew about Rose. That means he’s been watching, probably longer than either of us realized.”

“Why didn’t you come to me?” he asked, his voice lower now. “You’ve had this connection all this time. You could’ve told me before anyone got hurt.”

“I didn’t think it would matter. I thought I left him in the past.” Her voice cracked, and she stood. “I didn’t want Rose to see me like this. Weak. Afraid. Complicit.”

“You’re not complicit,” Bishop said sharply. “You’re just one more name in a list of women he’s used. But you ” He paused. “You might be the only one who can help stop him.”

Lauren met his gaze. Something in his words made her stomach twist. “How bad is it?”

“I don’t know yet,” Bishop admitted. “But I’ve seen the way Damien operates. He doesn’t show up unless he wants something. And when he wants something, people get hurt.”

She rubbed her arms, suddenly cold despite the heat in the room. “You think he’s here for Rose?”

“I think he’s circling her,” Bishop said. “And the more I look at this, the more I’m sure she has something he wants.”

Lauren’s eyes widened. “Like what?”

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “But I’m going to find out.”

Silence settled between them like fog.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I should’ve told you sooner.”

His voice was low, but firm. “Then help me fix it now.”

And just like that, Lauren realized there was no more room for fear.

Only war.