Damon's POV
My apartment door slams open.
I spin around from my kitchen counter, already reaching for the baseball bat I keep by the fridge. But it's just Skylar, breathing hard like she ran here. Riley follows behind her, clutching a laptop.
"We have it," Skylar gasps. "We have proof."
My heart stops. "Proof of what?"
"That James was murdered." She holds up her phone with shaking hands. "We recorded Celeste. She confessed everything."
The world tilts sideways. I grip the counter to stay standing. "What?"
Riley sets her laptop on my kitchen table and opens it. "We broke into James's old dorm room tonight. We planted a voice recorder. Celeste showed up and—"
"You broke in?" My voice comes out too loud. "Are you insane? She could have killed you!"
"She tried," Skylar says quietly. "She threatened us. Said she'd do to us exactly what she did to James."
The words hit me like a punch to the stomach. For six months, I've been dating a murderer. Kissing her. Sleeping next to her. And she killed my best friend.
I'm going to be sick.
"Play it," I hear myself say. "I need to hear her say it."
Riley's fingers fly across the keyboard. "The original recorder got destroyed, but I uploaded the file to the dorm computer first. The desk worker emailed it to all of us."
My phone buzzes. I open the email with numb fingers and press play.
James's voice fills my apartment.
"If anything happens to me, I need people to know the truth. Celeste Morgan won't leave me alone. She keeps showing up everywhere I go. She sent me fifty texts yesterday. I told Damon's girlfriend I'm not interested, but she won't stop..."
I close my eyes. James sounds scared. My best friend was terrified, and I didn't know.
Then Celeste's voice cuts in, sweet and poisonous.
"James? What are you doing up here so late?"
"Stay away from me, Celeste."
"I just want to talk. Here, I brought you coffee. Peace offering?"
There's a pause. Then James sounds confused.
"I feel weird. What did you put in this?"
"Just something to help you relax. You've been so stressed lately."
"You drugged me? Celeste, what—"
"Shh. It's okay. Everything's going to be okay. You just need to come to the edge and look at the view."
"No. I don't like heights. You know that."
"I know. But you're going to go anyway."
There's a scuffle. James crying out. Celeste laughing.
Then a scream. James's scream as he falls.
And silence.
I run to the bathroom and throw up. My whole body shakes. I can hear Skylar and Riley talking quietly in the living room, but their words sound underwater.
When I finally come out, I can barely look at them. "How long have you known?"
"We suspected three days ago," Skylar admits. "But we only got proof tonight."
Three days. I've been with Celeste for seven months. These girls figured out the truth in three days.
"I'm so stupid." I sink onto my couch and put my head in my hands. "She was sleeping in my bed. She killed James, and then she slept next to me every night like nothing happened."
"She's a psychopath," Riley says. "She's good at hiding it. She fooled everyone."
"Not you." I look at Skylar. Her green eyes are so much like James's—fierce and determined. "You knew from the start something was wrong. Why?"
"Because I knew James would never kill himself." Her voice breaks. "Everyone told me to move on. But I couldn't. The truth matters more than being comfortable."
My professor's words from class last week. The same words James always said.
"What do we do now?" I ask. "Take this to the police?"
Skylar shakes her head. "Celeste's family is rich. She said her lawyers will claim the recording is fake. That we edited it somehow."
"So we need more evidence." I stand up and start pacing. My mind is racing, clicking through possibilities like an architect designing a building. "Physical evidence. The chloroform she used. The clothes she wore that night. Security footage."
"We already looked," Riley says. "The security footage from that night is gone. Deleted from the university's main server."
I stop pacing. "Deleted? Who could do that?"
"Someone with administrator access." Riley looks uncomfortable. "Not a student. Someone with authority."
The implications slam into me. "Someone helped her cover it up?"
"Maybe." Skylar's face has gone pale. "Or maybe she has something on someone important. Either way, we can't trust the official channels yet."
My phone buzzes. Then Riley's. Then Skylar's.
We all look at our screens at the same time.
It's a group text from an unknown number. The message is just a photo.
My blood turns to ice.
It's a picture of us. Right now. Sitting in my living room. Taken from outside my window.
Below the photo, a message:
Sweet alliance. But you're forgetting something important. I'm always watching. And if you three think you can plot against me, you're more stupid than James was.
Another text comes through:
Damon, baby, we need to talk. Meet me at our usual spot in 20 minutes. Come alone or your new friends have accidents. xoxo
Skylar grabs my arm. "Don't go. It's a trap."
"If I don't go, she'll hurt you." I pull away and grab my jacket. "She just proved she's watching us right now."
"Then we all go," Riley says. "We stay together."
"No." I'm already at the door. "I go alone. I act normal. And I buy us time to find more evidence."
"Damon—" Skylar starts.
"I've been pretending to love her for months," I interrupt. "I can pretend for one more night." I look at both of them. "Lock the door after I leave. Don't open it for anyone. I'll text you when I'm safe."
"Where's your usual spot?" Skylar demands.
"The roof of Whitmore Hall."
The words hang in the air like a death sentence.
The same roof where James died.
"She's going to kill you," Skylar says flatly. "That's what this is."
"Maybe." I open the door. "But if I don't go, you're next. If I'm not back in one hour, take the recording to Detective Kim. Tell her everything."
I walk out before they can argue.
The night air hits my face as I head toward Whitmore Hall. Each step feels heavier than the last. I should be terrified. But instead, I feel something I haven't felt in years.
Purpose.
Celeste wants to kill me where she killed James? Fine.
But I'm not going down without a fight.
I pull open the door to Whitmore Hall and start climbing the stairs.
My phone buzzes one more time.
It's a text from an unknown number. Not Celeste's.
Don't go to the roof. It's not Celeste waiting for you. It's someone worse.
My hand freezes on the stairwell railing.
If Celeste isn't on the roof, then who is?