Because standing beside him was someone I never thought I’d see again.
His wife, Lesley.
And I knew exactly who she was.
A hitwoman. One who had been hired to kill me.
I took a shaky step back. “Damon… what the hell is going on?”
Lesley, standing there with calm eyes and a knowing smirk, raised her hands in surrender.
“I know what you’re thinking,” she said, her voice smooth. “But you don’t need to be afraid.”
I clenched my fists. “Why shouldn’t I be? You were paid to kill me.”
She sighed, shaking her head. “That was a long time ago. Things change.”
I didn’t believe her.
Not until she said something that made my blood run cold.
“I know who killed your parents.”
Everything stopped.
My breath caught in my throat, my heart hammering in my chest.
“You… what?” I whispered.
Lesley’s smirk faded, replaced by something far more serious.
“I know the truth, Zoey. And if you’re ready, I’ll tell you everything.”
I swallowed hard, my pulse racing.
I wasn’t sure I was ready for this.
But I needed to know.
Time moved differently in Damon and Lesley’s house. It wasn’t just a hideout—it became my prison and my training ground. For months, I stayed there, my body healing while my mind hardened.