The search

The safe house was a rustic cabin deep in the mountains, far from the city’s reaching fingers. Jackson watched as Damian thrashed in his sleep, his hand instinctively moving to his left shoulder where a faded scar remained - the place where Serena’s bullet had struck him nine months ago.

“Don’t... the papers...” Damian muttered, sweat beading on his forehead. “Not my mother... never was...”

Jackson pressed a cool cloth to his friend’s forehead, guilt and anger warring in his chest. He should have acted sooner, should have realized something was wrong when Damian suddenly stopped calling. But Serena’s web of lies had been masterfully spun— even he had initially believed the story about Elara abandoning Damian at a point.

“How’s he holding up?” Chen, one of Jackson’s most trusted team members, appeared in the doorway, his military training evident in his alert stance.

“Still fighting the drugs,” Jackson replied, checking Damian’s pulse. “But he’s remembering. That’s something.”

“Mmm.”

“