Chapter 31

My legs moved before my thoughts could catch up. I sprinted down the hallway, heart pounding louder than my footsteps, past rooms filled with quiet groans and nurses who turned too slowly. The further I went, the heavier my chest became.

She wasn’t in her room.

She wasn’t in her room.

She wasn’t—

Oh God.

“Where is she?!” I yelled, but no one had an answer. Not the nurse with trembling fingers, not the receptionist who suddenly couldn’t meet my gaze.

A growing noise rang in my ears as an unbearable pressure built in my chest.

I don’t even know how I got there. Maybe I flew. Maybe I fell. Maybe I ran with so much desperation that my limbs forgot their limits.

But I found myself pushing past the familiar white door that led to the hospital’s back garden.

It smelled like damp soil.

And there, through the trimmed hedges, beyond the faded wheelchair ramp—

Was a form.

A pale form lying still in the grass.

My breath caught in my throat.

No.

No, no, no please.

My feet made a muffled sound against the earth as I stepped closer, as if any sound might wake her.

Her hospital gown was the same faded blue, fluttering slightly in the wind. The open back revealed the soft, cold skin of her spine. Bare and pale.

Her body was twisted slightly to the side, one arm limp by her chest, her cheek pressed against the dirt as though she’d fallen asleep there.

But her eyes—

They were open.

Her lips slightly parted, as if she’d tried to call out for help… or for me.

Flies buzzed around her tangled hair, crawling across her temple like they had a right to her.

My knees buckled.

I dropped to the ground beside her, shaking.

“Mum?” My voice cracked. “Mum—?”

I reached for her hand but it was ice cold.

I tried to lift her, shake her, warm her with mine.

“Please,” I begged in a whisper that became a sob. “Mum, wake up… please, no don’t do this to me. Don’t—”

The tears came like a flood.

I bent over her lifeless body, curling over her the way she used to curl around me when I cried in the middle of the night as a child. But she didn’t move. She didn’t breathe.

She didn’t hold me back.

Her body didn’t move beneath me.

But her voice…

It wasn’t out loud. It wasn’t real. It couldn’t be.

Yet it wrapped around me like the soft echo of a lullaby I hadn’t heard since childhood.

“I’m right here, Isla… I’m right here…”

My chest rose and fell in sync with the words I didn’t hear, but felt. Felt so deeply I thought my heart might collapse under their weight.

The world around me began to fade. The buzzing of the flies, the dampness of the soil beneath my knees, the coldness of her skin, all of it blurred, washing away into a blinding suffocating white.

Something was pressing against me—

Hands? Warm but heavy. They pushed me down, grounding me. Then something colder touched my forehead.

I wanted to scream. I wanted to sob.

But the voice whispered again, softer now.

“I’m right here… Isla…”

The whiteness dissolved into fragments shadows dancing, light flickering, heat burning through my temples. My limbs felt too heavy to move. I was being lifted, or carried, or maybe just floating in and out of something I couldn’t name.

Was I dreaming?

I blinked.

The air felt different now dry and warm. My head rested on something soft, soaked in sweat. The sheets beneath me were damp. My breathing came in shallow gasps.

A cool towel dabbed against my forehead.

“Isla,” someone whispered urgently, but it sounded so far away. “She’s burning up are you sure the drugs worked? Will she be fine?.”

The voice echoed. Familiar. Male.

I tried to open my eyes, but the light pierced through my skull, forcing them shut again. The world was shapes and outlines as two figures crouched beside my bed. One had black hair. The other… a woman?

The door creaked.

A new silhouette entered the room a tall man, slow in his movements, his hands tucked behind his back like a judge walking into a courtroom.

“I knew it was wrong to leave her under your care. If Theodore was alive, none of this would’ve happened. If you don’t even know what she saw, then let me take her,” the older male voice growled, firm now. “She’s my daughter. She belongs with me.”

Silence.

The kind that makes the air feel colder than it should.

“She’s not safe here, Mr. Blackwood,” the woman said quietly. “If someone could just barge into this security-filled estate and inject your wife with Scopolamine in her sleep, then this place isn’t safe for anyone. Let’s not forget all the recent allegations going on against you. The more she’s involved with you, the more she gets targeted.”

The voices kept going, but I wasn’t fully there. I tried to push myself up. Nothing moved. Not even my fingers. I wanted to scream, but my throat was dry. I couldn’t tell if I was asleep, dead, or stuck somewhere in between.

My body felt too hot. Something cold was pressed against my forehead. A towel maybe. A hand wiped my face gently. I was burning up.

As I tried to force myself to remember, everything came back in fragments.

When Alex slammed the door… last night…… was it really just last night?

I remember walking slowly to the window, my legs weak. I sat there for a long time, release still clinging to my body, dried and sticky between my thighs. What he did to me… it felt unreal. The kind of pleasure that left you dizzy, confused, and ashamed all at once.

His mouth… God.

The way he moved between my legs like he had done it a thousand times. Like he owned that part of me.

I felt sick for letting him walk out of my room. A part of me still wanted him. Still craved whatever else he had in store for me. But then reality set in. The silence. The emptiness he left behind. And I knew I had to get a grip.

I dragged myself to the bathroom and stood under the shower for what felt like hours, and I was pretty sure it was early morning now. I washed and scrubbed until my skin turned red. My hands lingered too long on the place he’d touched… tasted. I hated how I still felt warm down there.

I shut my eyes and flushed as the memories came flooding back.

I needed water. Maybe something cold would clear my head.

I threw on a loose white nightie and made my way down the stairs. Everything was dark. Too dark. Even the chandelier lights were off, which was strange. This house never sleeps. It stays glowing like a damn museum.

Figuring the power had probably tripped, I padded into the kitchen barefoot. I almost tripped over the waste bin that sat awkwardly near the door. I barely noticed it before.

The fridge made a light whoosh sound as I opened it. Its cold light poured onto my skin, and for a second, it felt comforting. I grabbed a bottle of Voss and downed half of it, my palm pressed to my sweaty forehead.

Then I heard it.

A sharp noise.

Metallic.

Quick.

It came from the back door.

I should’ve turned around.

I should’ve walked back to my room.

But curiosity won.

I walked toward the door slowly.

Then out of nowhere—

A hand shot out.

A hand in a black glove. The glove reeked of something sour.

I gasped, but it was too late.

A damp cloth pressed hard against my face.

I struggled. Tried to move as the person breathed into my neck.

“It’s good to see you too, my shadow self,” the voice whispered near my ear.

I struggled, but my body was going limp too fast.

My knees buckled.

And just like that….

The world went black.