Wrong.
Impossible.
He blinks slowly, tears still clinging to his lashes.
“I never have.”
The room disappears.
“No.”
Victor’s smile widens.
“I have no idea where they are,” he says. “I was waiting as long as possible to tell you so that whoever does have them can get away.”
Victor sucks in a broken breath and laughs again.
“I would have never said anything,” he whispers, blood staining his teeth, “but I didn’t wanna die without watching you break.”
Something in me goes silent.
Not calm.
Not controlled.
Silent.
The kind of silence that comes after a bomb has already gone off, and all that is left is ringing.
“You’re lying,” I say.
“Nope.”
“You threatened them.”
“Yes.”
“You said you were watching them.”
“I was.”
“You said you would take them from me.”
“I wanted to.” His head rolls back against the chair, his eyes half-lidded but still locked on mine. “God, how I wanted to. Your woman. That little girl. I wanted you to know what it felt like to have your future ripped out of your hands.”
My hand curls into a fist at my side.
“But I didn’t take them,” he says softly. “Someone else got there first.”
No.
No, no, no.
Four hours.
I’ve spent four hours with my hands on the wrong man while Amelia and Olivia are somewhere else.
While someone else has them.
