Page 203 of Her Wicked Plan

Now, her eyes are cold. No hint of remorse for what she just did, which is why what she says next takes me by surprise.

“I am sorry, Leo, but keeping you was never part of the plan.” Her lips press a light kiss on my forehead.

She drops my head, and it takes every ounce of strength left in my body not to crumble to the ground. She backs away from me, giving me one last look before spinning on her heel and rushing into the woods.

I grit my teeth, the pain of the knife, the feeling of it stuck in my body. I groan out in agony, screaming into the air, not caring if they hear me. Not only did she stab me, but she also ripped my already shattered heart into a million more pieces.

The voices in the woods are muffled, making me think that whoever was searching for us had turned another path. Then I see lights in the woods.

Flashlights shine through the trees, and I realize they didn’t go another way. I could barely hear them because I was losing consciousness.

Dr. Bennett emerges from the woods with other men. His face is blurry because of my fading vision. He frantically looks around for a trace of Veronica.

When his eyes meet mine, and he walks toward me, my vision goes completely black. My body falls to the ground with a thud, and the world goes silent.

No more shouting voices, no more unbearable pain.

I am consumed by utter darkness.

Epiloque: One Year Later

VERONICA

Summer and I have always been friends. I love the warmth of the sun kissing my skin. Although my skin is pale and I always burn easily, I don’t mind the pain. It was temporary pain anyway, and it would eventually turn into something like a tan.

Through fall and winter, I looked forward to the signs of Spring because I knew Summer would follow in its footsteps. Bringing the constant blaze of the sun, the fresh warm air, and the cool waters you can refresh yourself.

I missed swimming while I was locked up. Since my escape, I’ve been to many beaches. Even during the winter months, I’d travel somewhere warm to escape the bitter cold. I didn’t travel often, considering the predicament I’m in.

I’m sure they are still searching for me, which is why my coming back to Seattle could be risky, but it is a risk I’m willing to take. It will be worth it even if the visit is only for mere seconds. I slam the car door on my Honda Civic. It’s not the nicest car, but I needed something that wouldn’t draw attention.

My platforms click on the parking lot pavement as I make my way to the front door. It’s the only spot in this entire building that isn’t surrounded by tall, wired fences, and it’s the only entrance for civilians.

The air conditioning blasts in my direction as soon as I walk through the door, and goosebumps line my skin because of the temperature difference.

The lady at the receptionist's desk glances up and offers a kind smile when she sees me.

“Hello there! How can I help you?”

“Hi! My name is Camille Saunders. I’m here for a visitation,” I answer.

“Of course. I’ll need the name of the person you are here to see.” I give her the name, and an eyebrow quirks upward when she checks the computer screen. “It doesn’t say he has a visitation scheduled.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry!” I place my hand over my chest, looking apologetic. “It was meant to be a surprise. I haven’t seen him in a long time, and I thought it would be sweet and romantic if I showed up unannounced.” My hand drops, and I glance around the lobby. “But I’m guessing that doesn’t work in a place like this. I’ll schedule a visit for another time! Again, I am so sorry.”

I spin on my heel, about to leave, until the woman speaks up. “It shouldn’t be a problem, Dear!”

A wicked grin forms on my face. Before I face her, I cover it up with a thankful smile. “Thank you so much!”

“Don’t you worry about it!” She waves it off. “I will alert a guard and have him brought down.”

I answer with a sweet smile. She picks up the phone, informing someone that I am here. A couple of minutes later, a male guard is entering the lobby. The door is propped open, and he gestures for me to follow him.

The floors are an off-white linoleum, dirty and filled with scuff marks from the hundreds of shoes that have walked on them. I keep my head up, focusing on where the man is leading me.

Through another door, the lights grow dimmer. A line of what appears as side-by-side desks, with a metal separator between them to provide privacy for visitors. He takes me to one and tells me it will only be a minute until the person I am here to see is brought down.

Taking my seat, I stare forward. The corner of my lip tugs upward as I focus on the glass divider in front of me. A door sounds from the other side, footsteps slowly trailing closer to where I’m seated. He comes into view, pausing at the sight of me.