Page 285 of Vexatious Queen

That voice. No.

My stomach dropped as I forced my eyes open again, vision swimming, the room blurring into warped shapes and shadows. Blond hair. Sharp features twisted into a familiar snarl.

Christov.

I tried to move. Tried to lift my arm. Nothing happened.

Panic flared, hot and immediate, cutting through the fog as I looked down and saw thick bands of silver tape wrapped around my wrists, pinning my arms to the chair. My legs were bound the same way. My chest felt tight, my breath shallow and uneven. My mind started to clear as adrenaline flooded my system.

“She has to be the one, and we don’t have much time,” Christov said.

“We don’t know that anything has happened to Vadin or Sharpe,” the woman replied.

I was just able to make out the red-and-black pantsuit and black hair tied up in a twist.

Patricia.

“Don’t be so naive. Of course, something has happened. That arrogant old windbag would’ve called celebrating Yuliana’s death. If you want your revenge, you need to take it now,” Christov said.

Why didn’t I remember getting here? Where was Blake? Where was Mo? Did they hurt them? Did they hurt my dad? What were they going to do to me?

My thoughts scattered, sliding over each other and grating like broken glass. My mouth was dry. I tried to lick my lips and realized I also had tape over my mouth.

“I don’t want her involved,” Patricia said.

Glancing around, I tried to gauge where we were, but nothing looked familiar. I turned my head and spotted a door, but a wave of dizziness washed over me. I had to close my eyes for a few seconds to regain control of my turning stomach.

Once settled, I opened them and saw Patricia and Christov face-to-face near the lone window in the room. The space felt wrong, like it was from another time. Old wood and mildew clung to the air. The wallpaper was peeling, some faded floral pattern from decades ago. The plaster beneath it was cracked and crumbling. The only light came from a dull yellow bulb atop a brown glass lamp shoved into the corner by an old bed. No other furniture other than the chair I was sitting on.

“Go talk to her and get it done. Right now,” Christov ordered.

Patricia sighed as she walked past me to open the door.

“Mama, what’s going on? It’s freezing in here, and why are we in this shitty old farmhouse? It’s creepy as hell.”

Vicky?

I sucked in a deep breath and tried to push the static out of my brain. It was like trying to fight through sludge. They must have drugged me. It was the only logical explanation.

“I’m sorry, Vicky, but I had to bring you. We are leaving town,” Patrica said.

“What? Why? I’m being interviewed tonight. Thad will think I stood him up. And what about Papa and graduation? I can’t leave.”

“I’ll explain later, but right now I need you to do something for me,” Patricia said.

“No, tell me now,” Vicky said.

“Enough of this.”

Christov swore as he stomped past me. Each of his footfalls sounded like a gun going off inside my skull. I kept my eyes down and tugged on my arms again, but they wouldn’t budge.

“Hey! Let go of me,” Vicky shrieked when Christov dragged her into the room.

Vicky looked glamorous in the short black dress. She was looking down, trying to stay upright, as her heels dug into the old wood.

“I said, let go of me.”

Vicky jerked on her arm, but Christov just pulled harder. She stumbled, wobbled, and almost fell over twice with her long hair covering her face.