10. Brick

About an hour after Camille Blanchette left my office with her ultimatum simmering in the air, I quietly closed the file folder containing all the guesses she had about my identity. Then I sat back in my chair, laced my fingers behind my head, and looked up at the ceiling, only to mutter, “Fuck.”

She didn’t even have to be right about her assumptions; she had enough circumstantial coincidences to publish this, and not a soul would believe I wasn’t Black Crimson.

This definitely wasn’t something I could just blow off and forget about. Rocking in my chair a couple of seconds longer, I remained at my desk, debating my options, but there was really only one thing left to do.

One person left to talk to.

And I really didn’t want to have to confess this to him. I could already hear the damn lecture he was going to drag out and heap on me this time.

Shaking my head miserably, I heaved myself from my chair and snatched the file into my hand before letting myself out of my office.

It wasn’