Chapter 7: The Stranger in the Mirror
Elias couldn't breathe.
He sat on the edge of the silk-sheeted bed in Damien's apartment, gripping the necklace so tightly it cut into his palm. The silver wolf. Noah's necklace. But not just his brother's. It had come from Damien.
A gift. A mark of something more.
Elias wanted to scream. Instead, he curled forward, pressing his forehead to his knees, trembling. His brother was dead, and now the past was bleeding into the present in ways that made no sense.
He barely registered Damien when he returned to the room, jacket on, phone in hand.
"Get dressed. The police are waiting."
Elias looked up, his voice a hoarse whisper. "Are they blaming me again?"
"No," Damien said. "But they will. If we don't control the narrative."
---
CRIME SCENE – 2:43 A.M.
The alley was cordoned off with yellow tape. Officers stood around the scene, flashlights cutting through shadows. The body lay twisted in a grotesque pose, face covered with a blood-soaked cloth.
Elias stayed behind Damien, his heart thundering in his chest. The press hadn't arrived yet, but it was only a matter of time.
The officer in charge, Captain Yara, nodded stiffly at Damien. "We haven't touched anything. Thought you might want to see it first."
Damien knelt beside the body. Pulled the cloth away.
Elias flinched.
It wasn't just the gore. It was the eyes.
Vacant, but painted. The killer had smeared blue across the lids. Noah's favorite color.
Then Elias saw it—
Carved into the chest, raw and brutal:
E.V.
His initials.
Elias stumbled backward, gagging.
Damien rose slowly, fists clenched.
"He's mocking us," he said. "Mocking you."
Elias stared at the body, cold washing over him. "Why? Why would someone go this far?"
Captain Yara glanced between them. "You said the necklace belonged to your brother, Elias?"
He nodded.
"How did he die?"
Elias's throat tightened. He looked to Damien.
"Car accident," Damien answered for him. "Two years ago. Or that's what the records say."
Elias blinked. "What?"
Damien's voice turned icy. "I never believed it. Noah was targeted. And this proves it. Someone's keeping his memory alive—twisting it. This isn't random."
---
LATER THAT NIGHT – BACK ALLEY BEHIND THE STATION
Damien walked alone. The night was windless, but his soul was in a storm.
He stopped beneath a flickering light. The necklace was in his hand again.
He remembered when he gave it to Noah. A quiet night. A stupid smile. A kiss.
"I'll keep you safe," he had promised.
Lies.
Damien let out a guttural sound and slammed his fist into the brick wall. Again. And again.
Blood ran down his knuckles, but he didn't stop.
He wept. Harsh, ugly sobs.
Noah had been more than just a past. He had been peace. And now that memory was being defiled.
---
DAMIAN'S APARTMENT – DAWN
Elias sat in silence, fingers tangled in his hair.
He couldn't sleep. Images of the body haunted him. The blue eyelids. His initials.
He looked at a photo of Noah on his phone.
Smiling. Radiant. Gone.
Elias remembered the way Noah used to sneak him candy. The way he covered for him when he snuck out. The way he said, "Don't ever stop drawing, Eli. That's where your magic lives."
Elias looked at his sketchbook.
He hadn't drawn since this nightmare began.
He opened a page. Drew the alley. The necklace. The blue eyes.
Then he saw something else in his mind.
A face. From years ago.
A man who lived down their street. A friend of their parents. Always too interested in them. Especially in Noah.
His hand trembled.
Was that the connection?
Was this all about Noah?
---
DAMIEN RETURNS
He found Elias curled on the couch, sketchbook beside him.
"We need to talk," Elias said. "About Noah. And everything you've never told me."
Damien hesitated.
"Why did he wear that necklace every day?" Elias asked. "Why did you give it to him?"
Damien sat. "Because I loved him."
Elias inhaled sharply.
"We were careful. Secret. I was older. I thought I was protecting him from the world. Maybe I was just hiding."
Elias didn't know what to say.
But the ache in Damien's voice was real.
And now, someone had dragged that buried love into the light—with blood.
_____
Steam curled in the bathroom like ghosts Elias couldn't banish. Damien sat on the edge of the bathtub, shirtless and bruised, blood still drying along his knuckles. He hadn't said a word since they returned from the crime scene.
Elias wrung a towel in warm water and knelt in front of him. The silence throbbed, heavy with everything that hadn't been said.
"You punched a wall, Damien," Elias said, voice quiet. "You're bleeding."
Damien looked down at his hands like they belonged to someone else. "It doesn't matter."
"It does to me."
Elias dabbed gently at the wounds. Damien flinched, not from pain but from the tenderness. Elias noticed.
"You don't have to be made of stone all the time," Elias whispered.
Damien's jaw tensed. "I do. You think I can protect you if I fall apart?"
Elias looked up at him. "You already did."
Something broke in Damien's eyes—a crack in the veneer. He turned away sharply, but Elias caught his arm.
Damien turned back to him then, eyes red, the tough detective suddenly just a man drowning in ghosts.
"Get in the tub," Elias said softly. "Please."
Damien didn't move.
"Let me take care of you for once."
Finally, Damien stood and stepped into the warm water, sinking into it with a hiss. His head tipped back against the tile, throat exposed, eyes closed.
Elias watched him for a long moment. Then, slowly, deliberately, he climbed in too—fully clothed.
Water sloshed around them. Damien opened his eyes in confusion, but Elias just straddled his lap.
"What are you doing?" Damien asked.
Elias cupped his face. "Something stupid."
Then he kissed him.
It started soft. Trembling. A question asked between lips. Damien answered with his hands, pulling Elias closer, pressing their chests together, wet fabric clinging to skin.
The kiss deepened. Became teeth and tongue and need. Steam curled around them like silk. Elias yanked his shirt off, tossed it aside. Damien's hands roamed hungrily down Elias's back.
Elias broke the kiss to pant, water dripping down his face. "This doesn't make sense."
"Nothing does," Damien rasped. "But I need this."
They slid against each other, gasps echoing off tile. Elias rocked in Damien's lap, hips grinding, pleasure tinged with pain, with grief, with fury at a world so cruel it left people shattered and bleeding.
When they came undone, it was quiet. Damien held Elias like something fragile. Elias clutched Damien like a lifeline.
The water stilled.
Minutes passed.
"You never cried for him," Elias murmured.
Damien swallowed. "I couldn't afford to."
"You can now."
Damien didn't answer.
But later, when Elias fell asleep in the tub against his chest, Damien slipped out of the water, wrapped a towel around his waist, and stepped onto the darkened balcony.
There, alone under the stars, Damien wept. He punched the brick wall until his knuckles split again, his body wracked with sobs he hadn't released in years.
"Noah," he whispered, forehead pressed to stone. "What did they do to you?"
---
Back Inside
Elias stirred awake in the cool sheets of Damien's bed. His limbs ached, but not unpleasantly.
Then he saw it.
An envelope. Slipped under the bedroom door.
He climbed out of bed, heart hammering. Opened it.
Inside was a photo.
Of Elias. As a child.
Standing next to a man whose face had been scratched out in black ink.
On the back, scrawled in jagged handwriting:
"You look just like him."
Elias backed away, throat dry.
He didn't recognize the room. He didn't recognize the boy in the photo.
And suddenly, he didn't recognize himself.
---
FLASHBACK – ELIAS, AGE 12
He heard voices. Late at night.
Noah arguing with someone on the phone. The words sharp, urgent.
Then crying.
Elias had opened the door a crack. Seen Noah curled up, holding the necklace, whispering a name:
"Damien."
---
PRESENT
A knock at the door.
Damien tensed. Drew his gun.
A delivery.
A box. No return address.
He opened it slowly.
Inside: another photo. Of Noah.
But this one had been edited. Red ink scrawled across it:
"Next, I take him."
A finger pointed.
At Elias.