Bernardo didn't speak immediately. He stared at her back, at the way the green dress clung to her shoulders. He felt a strange, unfamiliar pull in his chest. He hated it.
He walked past her, out the sliding glass doors that led to the massive terrace overlooking the ocean. He didn't look to see if she followed.
Darleen took a deep breath. She looked at Thurston. The old man nodded toward the terrace.
She stepped outside. The wind was stronger here, carrying the salty spray from the waves crashing below. The sun was setting, painting the sky in violent shades of orange and purple.
Bernardo stood at the railing, his back to her. He pulled a cigar from his pocket and lit it with a heavy silver lighter. The smoke curled around his head, obscuring his face.
"Talk," he said, his voice cutting through the wind. "Tell me exactly how you think this happened."
Darleen crossed her arms over her chest, fighting the chill. "I don't think. I know."
"Then tell me," he sneered. "Enlighten me with your tragic little story."
"I don't remember everything," Darleen said, her voice tight. "It's blurry."
Bernardo turned around, his eyes mocking. "You don't remember? How convenient. You claim I fathered your children, but you can't remember the night. Were you too drunk? Or just too desperate?"
Darleen flinched. The anger, the humiliation of that night, surged up inside her, hot and acidic.
"You think you're the only victim here?" she shouted, stepping closer to him.
She reached up. Her fingers went to the collar of her dress. She pulled the fabric down, exposing her collarbone.
The skin there was smooth, except for one spot. Right below the bone, there was a faint, silvery line. A crescent moon shape. A scar.
Bernardo's cigar froze halfway to his mouth. His eyes locked onto the scar. The blood drained from his face.
He knew that shape. Not because it matched his own teeth, but because it matched the mark on his chest. The scar on her collarbone was the mirror image of the crescent-shaped bite wound he had woken up with four years ago. The same curve. The same spacing. He had spent hours in front of the mirror, tracing that scar, wondering whose teeth had marked him so deeply.
He looked at her mouth. Her lips. The faint, even line of her teeth behind them.
"It was you," Bernardo whispered, his voice suddenly hoarse. "You bit me."
Darleen let go of her collar. The fabric snapped back into place, hiding the scar.
"And you bit me," she said, her eyes blazing. "You bit me so hard I bled."
Bernardo's hand trembled. Ash fell from the end of his cigar, landing on his shoe. He didn't notice. His mind was racing, crashing through the walls he had built around that night.
"Where on the Leviathan?" he demanded, taking a step toward her. "Where exactly did I find you?"
"On the upper deck," Darleen said. "Near the stern. I was dragged up there. I was locked out in the rain. You were already there. You were out of your mind. You were like an animal."
Bernardo gripped the railing so hard the metal groaned under his fingers. "I would never-"
"But you did," Darleen interrupted. "You were rough. You were scary. But right before..." She paused, swallowing hard. "Right before the end, you kissed my tears away. You wiped my face and you kissed my eyes."
Bernardo's chest seized. The kiss. The instinct to comfort. It was a reflex he had never been able to control, not even in his darkest moments. It was the one thing that proved he wasn't a complete monster.
He didn't want to believe her. But his body was screaming that she was telling the truth.
He turned away, his voice rough. "The security footage from that night is gone. A lightning strike fried the servers. My men already confirmed it."
Darleen watched him. She saw the cracks in his armor. She saw the fear behind the anger. It was time to close the trap.
She pulled her phone out of her pocket. She opened a photo and held the screen out to him.
Bernardo looked at the screen. It was a picture of a necklace. A thick platinum chain with a pendant. A black opal, dark and swirling, with the letters 'BW' etched into the back.
"I kept this," Darleen said. "You left it in my dress."
Bernardo knew that necklace. It was a gift from his father on his eighteenth birthday. He had lost it years ago. He had assumed it was stolen.
He reached out, his fingers hovering over the screen. He needed to see the etching. He needed to see the scratch on the clasp.
Darleen pulled the phone back, hiding the screen in her palm.
"You want to see the details?" she asked, her voice cold. "Wait for the DNA test. If you are the father, I will tell you everything."
