Page 168 of Remnants: Disruption
That seems to defuse him a little because he grumbles something about “sarcastic ass” as he waves us by.
“I didn’t expect a Reliquary,” I say softly, glancing at Cass as we walk the long hallway to an ugly door on the far end.
“Neither did I,” she says absently, studying the portraits as we pass.
And I see why.
Each look like a carbon copy of the one before, except with subtle changes. Like the Roberts’ DNA was unwilling to create anything but a male with the same face, eyes, and pompous smile as the one who came before.
It’s almost eerie how identical each look. And then we reach what must be the current Damien Roberts.
Cass studies him for a moment, eyes narrowing a little before she lets out a huff of pent-up air.
“Ready?” she checks, turning to me.
“As always,” I respond, staring into the eyes that I’m most definitely in love with. Even if they’re not the orange I’ve come to adore.
Chapter 59
Interlude III
All at once.
If I am to die, I hope that this letter should find the woman I have fallen for. If she does not exist, then I suppose Darkrend had been right. That I am far too damaged, far too diseased to have ever been loved. In that case, please destroy this letter and all of my earthly possessions. I shall not need them for what comes next.
The Last Will and Testament of Cassandra Alta
Iknew something was wrong. It had begun the moment Arya stepped foot into reception. When she had looked so put off by the receptionist and by the entire room.
Her face was somewhat changed from the one I know. Instead of the piercing silver eyes, she wore fake contacts that made them almost green.
Instead of her gorgeous braid, her hair is up in a messy bun.
And instead of the face that I love, she has a slight difference to her nose. Enough that anyone else would never connect her with her identity.
But it never mattered.
Because everything is wrong the moment we step into Damien Roberts’ office.
Not because of the grin he gives us. Or because of the way he looks almost too young.
No, it is the way he looks at me. It’s the way his eyes look vacant. As if everything about him is a facade.
Manufactured.
“Ladies,” he says, standing and offering his hand. “I am Damien Roberts; it is so lovely to meet you both.”
Arya hesitates for a fraction too long, and Damien recognizes it.
His grin gets too wide for his face. Like it’s misshapen or he himself is a figment of reality.
“Oh fuck,” Arya whispers, and Damien simply nods.
“Let’s not kid ourselves, Arya,” he says, and my blood chills. “You were only here to figure out why Darkrend and I are working together.”
To her credit, her jaw sets and she recovers faster than I do.
“Sure,” she says, gesturing around at the lavish office. “Enlighten us with your master plan, Damien.”
