“Sounds like a cult to me.”
“You’ll find out soon enough, sweetie!” She pats my hand. “And, like I said, you’ll embrace it.”
“What if I don’t?”
Her face hardens. “Have I ever failed you? Have I ever let you down? Has either of your parents ever given you a reason to distrust them?”
“No,” I admit.
Dad returns to our table, looking a lot less pleased with himself than before he walked out.
Mom shoots him a worried glance. “What’s wrong?”
“He’s having cold feet, Yvonne,” Dad hisses.
Mom and I goggle at him.
Dad removes his coat and mutters in an altered voice, “Monsieur Jezequel, your village is adorable, but it’s too remote.”
Mom blinks. “I thought the deal was done?”
“The day I took you and Stella to that celebratory lunch, Luc and I had shaken hands on the terms and made a joint announcement to my staff at the town hall.”
Mom and I wait while he pulls his chair and sits down.
He drains his wine. “Since then, I’ve signed the paperwork. But not Luc. He hasn’t signed anything yet.”
Mom’s face falls. “First, my financial troubles at the clinic. Now this. Are we running out of luck?”
“Big time,” Dad confirms.
They exchange meaningful looks.
“And if we don’t find that lostluckof ours,” Dad grits through his teeth, “then I might as well pull out of the mayor’s race before the official start!”
DARREL
Icurl my body away from Stella, closer to the wall, so that she can sit more comfortably. There’s a moment of panic when a slight twinge in my right knee makes me realize I moved my legs, too. I did it effortlessly without picking them up or asking Stella for help or even wincing from the pain.
Shit!How could I be so reckless? Stella might realize that my legs are in a much better shape than I’m letting on.Triple shit!Talk about letting a sloppy moment ruin weeks of hard work and extreme caution! I get distracted much too easily when she’s so close.
Fortunately, she wasn’t looking at my legs. Her beautiful brown eyes were locked on mine. They still are, unaware of my inner panic. They are the reason I messed up in the first place.
I’ve stopped hiding from Stella how much my left arm has healed. Everything I do is recorded, so keeping it secret would’ve meant giving up on exercising my left arm. For the legs, it’s easier—my routine stays under the blanket. The disadvantage is that I can’t put my feet on the floor and test if my legs are closer to being able to carry me. Because the day they can, the day I can stand on my own, I might be able to fight my way out of here without external help. Provided, of course, that my captors couple don’t decide I’m no use and get rid of me before that day arrives.
Stella peels her gaze away from me, settles into a more comfortable position on the bed, and plugs the spy cam into her phone. Her parents are off on their Saturday hiking-and-dining routine. That means Stella and I will have enough time to screen the week’s recordings and find out if they performed another ritual during that time.
“It pisses me off that I must rely on a recording instead of my memories because my mind was tampered with,” I confess to her.
If I get out of here in one piece, then the first thing I’m going to do is find a practitioner who can hypnotize me into recovering my erased memories.
“I’m so sorry, Darrel!” The corners of her plump mouth droop. “My mother should know better than to hypnotize people without their consent.”
“Or to hold them captive.”
Stella looks like she’s about to break out in tears. Immediately, I wish I could take my bitter remark back. There are times when my frustration with her refusal to call Adam Von Dietz gets the better of me. It makes me say things that hurt her feelings. Things I later regret.
She holds the screen so we can both see it and begins to fast-forward the recording, slowing down from time to time to watch when something of interest might be going on. But it’s just my boring routine.
