“What favor?” I barely whisper, the sobs in my chest making it impossible to talk. My heart takes up painful speed and I can’t stop the sobs shaking with my chest.
He’s going to kill them. Whatever this is, I feel like I’m just a fucking bait. They are going to die and it’s all my fault.
I can’t stop low whimpers from escaping my mouth as I’m falling down in a hole full of despair and void.
They are going to die because of me.
“Just, you know. Do their thing,” he says, like I’m supposed to get it. I try to hold in the panic and think.
What is he trying to say?
“I couldn’t care less about killing you, Kiara. My father ordered your hit, not me,” he explains.
My brows frown so hard it physically hurts my forehead.
Natalya finally comes back with a glass and a big jug of water. She settles it on the table next to me and moves the chain of my handcuffs so I can reach the glass.
He stands up and cups her cheek possessively but tenderly at the same time.
“Don’t stay here long, okay?” he whispers to her and she just smiles and nods.
I stare at them and my insides turn into a couple of painful knots.
Natalya.
What has he done to her?
He leaves the room, calm and unbothered. Natalya gets back on the bed beside me and pours me another glass of water, then she sinks her fingers into my hair and gently pushes me to drink it. I gulp it and instantly feel the cold current running down my throat and cooling my stomach.
I study her for a second, thinking about what I can say to not trigger whatever happened to her just a moment ago.
“Nat,” I whisper again, softer this time.
She looks up from the glass, eyes blinking slow, almost peaceful now. She reaches out and wipes a stray tear from my cheek with her thumb, like a sister comforting a sister.
Except her smile doesn’t reach her eyes, they stay empty.
“Are you okay?” she asks brightly.
My chest tightens. “Not really. I—I don’t know what’s happening. Can you tell me?”
She looks at me apologetically, but still empty, like she doesn’t know what’s happening either.
“Nat, do you remember how you got here?” I ask her quietly.
Her eyes start to flicker around my face, like she’s trying to remember.
“Yeah,” she freezes her gaze on the water for a second, then lifts her eyes back to me. “Lucien saved me.”
“Saved you from what?”
I feel physically sick.
This is sick.
I feel like I want to vomit and cry and then vomit again.
Her eyes flicker frantically around me, like she’s trying to remember but it’s physically impossible for her.
