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I don't even know where to start.
I need to find out the identity of the man who took her.
And my father.
My father needs to suffer for what happened to Alize. Whether he was directly involved, he took her only means of protecting herself. My mouth is full of bile, and I'm suddenly repulsed by the smell of blood and death in the area.
This is all too much.
I need to find her.
Fast.
THIRTY-ONE
ALIZE
The bright lightsburn into the skin of my eyelids.
It starts as a small, negligible pain. Then my whole head feels like it lights up with pain and discomfort, all at once. There's a throbbing by the side of my head, and my whole body feels stiff.
It hurts.
Like a bitch.
More than anything I've ever felt, I think. I can barely think straight—where am I? What's caused this horrible feeling? For a moment, a sliver of panic has me thinking that the estate has been attacked.
But that doesn't make much sense.
That attack was months ago.
I think?
The pain in my head grinds against my thoughts, and it's like my whole psyche is buckling under the pressure of it all. My eyes are still closed, I think. There's a huge weight on my chest. My eyes and nose feel stuffy.
Each breath is harder to take than the last.
The scratchy painful feeling that fills my mouth drips down into my throat. It's so overwhelming I want to vomit. What is all this?
As much as it hurts, I force myself out of the tiny corner of darkness in my mind. I'm in danger. I can feel that deep in my bones. Was I asleep or something? Everything feels groggy, moving in slow motion.
Until the sharp smell of a cigar slices through my senses.
With immense pain, my eyes fly open. My body jerks forward, straightening at the assault on my senses. The smell is so terrible I retch, spilling bile and apple juice onto myself. I blink once, twice.
Am I really awake?
The room I'm in is so bright it takes seconds for my eyes to adjust. With the blinding lights come recollection and awareness. My body feels so stiff because I'm bound by coarse rope to a cold metal chair. Two lights the size of dinner plates are on either side of me, held up by thin metal poles.
But my breath catches when the rest of the room comes into view.
Sitting a few paces away from me at an imposing wooden desk is Laurent. The sight of him reminds me of our last encounter in the garden. I thought he had killed me. But I'm alive. That explains the pain in my head.
He's dressed the same as I remember.
Only now, his suit is stained with blood.Myblood, I know. There are angry scratches on his face, and his bow tie is loose around his neck. He's got that wretched, stinky cigar between his lips and he's reading what looks to be a newspaper.
He hasn't noticed I'm awake.
