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“She better fucking be,” I mutter, fisting my knife in my hand while Cooper gases it through town.
My entire world is hanging in the balance, holding on by nothing but a prayer that has never worked before, and yet, I hope against hope that it pulls through just this once. For my swan.
Chapter 28
GEORGINA
The air is damp and musty. Every breath I take cloys in my lungs, making it harder to breathe out than it is to suck in. My head spins as I blink my eyes open. I’m not sure if it’s my eyes or whether I’m really in the dark. The silence buzzes loudly around me, as though I’m in vast surroundings. Bugging my eyes wider, I try to make out where I am because my brain is refusing to catch up with itself.
What is wrong with me? I wince as I blink, trying to clear the fog enveloping my senses.
My lids scratch over my eyeballs like sandpaper, making it impossible to continue trying to fight the heaviness. God, my body is achy and heavy.
So heavy.
The mustiness sets in the more I try to breathe, and as it congeals in my lungs, my stomach twists, tight and painfully enough that the acid in my stomach burns up my throat, pushing out of my mouth in an ear-splitting heave that echoes through the bleakness. Instead of making me feel better, it only makes it worse. The bitter taste on my tongue makes me heave more and more until the vile stench of putrid alcohol fills the air.
Oh God.
The smell jolts my brain into a tailspin, and all I can recall is the funeral and the wake. It physically hurts to think and remember how I got here. Where I am. Panic stabs through me as light flickers, and I’m not sure whether it’s in my head or actually happening anymore.
Loud footsteps clunk on wood. The pounding is so hard that my eyes flash open at the throbbing threatening to burst them.
“Ah, you’re awake. Finally,” Lucy sighs, jumping down the last three steps to stomp onto the floorboards.
Gaze darting to the door at the top of the stairs, my eyes burn, tearing up as though I’m allergic to the light. It’s stupid that the first thing I think about is bumping into her and getting her drink all over her dress. She’s changed now, and as I try to swipe at my mouth, I realise that it’s not that my arms are too heavy to move; I’m tied to the chair I’m on.
“Wha—What are you doing?” I slur the question slightly, trying to ignore the dryness in my mouth and the heaviness in my chest. “Whe—Where am I?”
“Neither of those things matter to you. You’ll learn quickly, I’m sure, and besides, it’s not like he didn’t prepare you for what’s awaiting you…it’ll just hurt a whole lot more.”
No matter how hard I try, I can’t get my head around her words fast enough. It’s like my brain is sparking, but the fuse isn’t connecting to the rest of my body.
“The men will love you. Ruining a princess…it’s not often they get something like this.” Gesturing to me with one hand, she reaches up to the low ceiling and tugs on the cord hanging by her head so that the bulb flickers on and I can see the disgust on her face. “We’ll have to get you all cleaned up first, dolly.”
Dolly?
“That’s what you are now, a pretty dolly. Exactly what they made me.” Sidestepping my vomit, she stands beside me, hand sweeping my long fringe back before she swipes the moisture collecting on my lashes from the irritation of my lids. “I didn’t want you, Georgie. You were just a little bit of fun to drive him crazy. Insane enough to give me what I wanted.”
“What do you want?” I groan as she tugs the crucifix from my neck and clasps it in her fist.
The sight of it reminds me of Freddie’s promise to find me no matter what. I’m certain he will because he loves me, and he’ll never let me go.
“Blood for blood. Life for a life.” Pulling back, she pockets my necklace before reaching behind her and brandishing a gun, much like the one that Freddie keeps in his bedside table. “But first we’ll clean you up.”
Loosening the ties at my wrists and elbows, Lucy holds the muzzle to my head, right above my left eye. Chilled blood races to my extremities, making my fingertips burn as I flex my fingers to rid of some of the heaviness.
“Slowly, you’re going to get up,” she instructs me, using her foot to turn the chair away from the sick on the floor and giving me a clearer view of the open doorway.
He’s going to find me, I remind myself as I do as she told me with my heart racing, slowly getting to my bare feet while I try to push through the dizziness and the aching of my limbs. It takes far too long to find my balance as I put one foot in front of the other.
The room is devoid of anything that I could use to potentially defend myself. With the exception of the chair I was in, it’s empty.
“Now, up you go, Swan.” The jeer almost makes me trip over myself as I hold on to the bannister for dear life.
I’m almost at the top when a large shadow hulks over me. When I look up, I recognise the man instantly. With the cap on his head and the tattoo on his arm exposed, it’s impossible for me to mistake him for anyone else. He bumped into me the night that Jordan and I were pretty much stalked on the way home. He served me my drink at the wake…
No. He tried to serve it to Arabella.
