Page 122 of Painted Truths

“Samuel.” I speak slowly, so far beyond terrified I can’t find a word for the emotion. “Where am I? How did I get here?”

He continues to busy himself with something over by a daybed in the corner of the room before turning to me with a broad smile on his face.

This smile of his sends prickles of fear and wild desperation down my spine, settling there and chilling me to my bone marrow.

And, just like that, the memory hits me as I remember how I’ve ended up here.

I feel utterly helpless just as I hear a low moan from behind his back.

It gets louder, as though the owner is trying to shout, but something is stopping them. Drawing gingerly onto my knees, the world still a bit topsy-turvy, I look beyond him to spy another person. They’re obviously female from both the sounds they are making, and the long, dark brown poker-straight hair splayed across the pillow behind them.

Momentarily forgetting Samuel and my own fear, I crawl forward, wholly focused on this other person, clinging to the realisation that I’m not alone. “Are you okay?”

The only response is more mumbling.

Trailing my eyes up and down along her back, I can see her hands are tied at the base of her spine, and I suddenly realise she must be gagged, hence the incoherency.

“Samuel, may I have some water, please?”

“Of course, dearest.” His voice is entirely at odds with the deranged look in his wide, pale blue eyes.

He moves to the door, walking into the hallway beyond, and I count to five before I slide off the side of the bed, almost falling to the ground, weaker than I’d anticipated.

Stumbling as quietly as I can, I reach the girl’s side within seconds, yet it feels like so much longer.

“Here, let me help you.” Unfortunately, her eyes are also covered, so I tug that off first.

She’s young, can’t be more than fifteen, sixteen at a push. She’s stunningly beautiful, with sallow skin and petite features.

And then she opens her eyes.

“Mila?”

Her golden flecked green eyes widen as she nods her head frantically.

Henry’s sister! Their eyes could be mirror images of each other.

“I’m Liv, your brother’s girlfriend—or well, you know? Umm, I’m also Alex’s best friend. Of course, he’s your other brother, but I guess you already knew that!”

I shake my head rapidly, trying to stop my penchant for rambling.

Not the time, Liv!

I tug the gag, barely loosening it. It’s been tied much too tightly. I pull again, but Mila’s eyes widen as she jack-knives across the bed, and I realise, she’s trying to warn me of danger behind me.

I see, almost more than feel, a glancing blow to the side of my already aching skull, saved from its brunt by Mila’s quick thinking. Rolling forward, I pretend I’ve been more hurt than I am, knowing it could work to our advantage, only to draw to an utter standstill as I take in the person before me.

Dressed head to toe in white, her long dark, normally curly hair pulled back in a high, sleek ponytail, that arrogant look I have come to associate so well with her plastered to her face and Samuel drawing up the rear. I cannot silence the audible gasp of shock that passes through my lips.

“Mrs DeMarco?”

Her perfectly manicured hand rears back before connecting with my cheek in a stinging slap that leaves me breathless.

“Who the fuck did you think it would be, you home-wrecking whore!”

My ears ring with the force behind her assault, taking in the entire picture while simultaneously reeling at this latest development.

“Samuel,” she barks, all signs of her usual high-class accent gone, “get this bitch tied up alongside her bastard spawn.”