“Where’s my mum?” I asked for what must be the millionth time. “You said she was here, or was that all talk?”
I had no idea how much time had passed. They’d shoved a blindfold on me, dragged me into a car, and when it finally came off, I was in a windowless room with only Jürgen for company.
“Word of advice, this attitude of yours will get you hurt.” His eyes narrowed a fraction. “Do as you’re told. Stay quiet. You are to be seen and not heard unless directly spoken to.”
“Are you always this?—”
“Practical?” he interrupted. “Yes, I am.”
“I was going to say insufferable.” I paused, annoyed with the faint whine of the light above me. “Aprickalso comes to mind.”
Jürgen didn’t react, his face deadpan. “He’s ready for you.”
Well, I wasn’t ready forhim.
Before Jürgen could grab my arm, I stepped forward on my own, waiting as he unlocked the single door and gestured me through.
I had no idea where we were, but the hallway was almost unnervingly opulent. Striped wallpaper, golden sconces casting warm pools of light, and a plush beige carpet so soft it swallowed every footstep. It felt like walking through a showroom instead of a real place.
But the windows, or the absence of them, ruined the illusion. Every single one had been boarded up from the inside, suffocating the space and blocking out any trace of natural light.
Whatever this building was, it wasn’t meant to be lived in.
It was meant to hide things.
Or people.
Jürgen paused at another door, looking over his shoulder at me. “Remember my advice. If he allows you to speak, you will call himVater.”
I didn’t get a chance to respond before the door was opened and I was introduced to an average-heighted man who stood beside a large leather armchair. His bowtie hungloose around his neck, and the top buttons of his shirt were undone, exposing a pale chest dusted with dark hair.
His eyes locked onto mine, and a deep frown pinched his brow.“Sie sieht nicht richtig aus.”
“He said you look wrong,” Jürgen translated as his hand shot up, ripping the wig off my head. The jerk pulled at my hair and dislodged the cap beneath. “Your contacts. Remove them.”
I glared at him but reached up, sliding the lenses out one by one as the older man took a few steps closer.
“You’re her,” he said, this time in English, though the German edge in his voice was unmistakable. “My beautiful Raena.”
“Where’s my mum?” I asked, proud my voice didn’t shake. “Do you have her?”
The older man glanced at Jürgen, who dipped his head and left the room. “Sit down,” he demanded of me.
“Where’s my mum?” I asked again, this time louder. “I need?—”
A sharp crack split the air, pain blooming hot across my cheek as my head snapped to the side. The rest of my pinned-up hair tumbled loose, spilling over my shoulder.
“Sit down,” he said calmly, gesturing to the sofa.
I lowered myself into the seat, refusing to react when he brushed a few stray strands of hair from my face before stepping back and settling into the armchair. A short table separated us, a pretty vase of flowers in the centre while a large mirror to my left reflected the scene back.
“You look like your mother. Same features, and definitely the same hair,” he chuckled, his smile so stretched it was a surprise his cheeks hadn’t split. “So long I’ve been looking for you. I thought you were dead.”
A hearth crackled to our side, throwing distorted shadows across his face. He had thick hair, a muddy brownpeppered with white that blended into the neat beard covering his jaw. His eyes were large, a deep green the same as mine.
“Am I allowed to speak?” I whispered, ignoring how my stomach recoiled.
“Am I allowed to speak,Vater,” he corrected.
