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“So beautiful,” he whispered, kissing me on my mouth as his hand wrapped around my neck. “I’ll ask one last time. Where is Aidan?” He began to squeeze, and I felt the bones in my neck shift, cutting off my flow of oxygen.
“On an island,” I croaked.
He released his grip just enough. “Where?”
“In the Shetlands. Keir owns it.”
“What’s it called, and don’t lie to me?”
Dark spots appeared before my eyes, blurring his face in a distorted image of shapes and lines. “Dorcha.”
It was the last thing I remember saying before everything went black.
ChapterTwenty-Eight
EVIE
“Wake up,” a deep voice said more loudly than necessary as a hand patted my face.
I cracked open an eye to find Donovan hovering over me. My head felt like it was going to split in two, and my throat was swollen and dry.
“We’re getting ready to land. Fasten your safety belt.”
“Can I get some water?” I asked. My voice was hoarse and cracked. I slowly sat up, rubbing my stiff neck. And clipped the ends of my belt together.
“Pity I’m not feeling so generous today. You should have taken my offer yesterday for refreshments, that is.”
I looked out my window. We were quickly approaching a small airport. The sky was dark and gray.
I felt drugged and nauseous, and my mind went quickly to the baby. It wasn’t just me I had to worry about. There was another now. “Where are we?”
“Mainland, Shetland.”
“I thought we were going to Ireland.”
“Clever. You’re a smart one, I’ll give you that,” he said. “Plans changed.”
My stomach rolled as the plane began to descend. “Please, can I have a drink of water?”
He smiled and reached out, running his finger over my neck. “You’re bruised,” he said wistfully. “It’s beautiful. The soft blue against your lily-white neck. Tarnished but not broken, like a fine crack in a porcelain cup. Not unlike you, slightly used but not completely defiled. Yet, in a few days, it will be ugly and harsh. No longer beautiful.”
A shiver ran down my spine, and my stomach tightened.
He kept his hand on my neck as he spoke. “Your throat will be sore, no doubt. Strangulation is an art form. You have to know where to press and with how much pressure.” He squeezed ever so softly, causing me to cough. “Too hard, and you can damage the larynx or fracture the hyoid bone. It has to be just right, strong enough to interrupt the blood supply going to the brain but not cause neurologic damage. It’s like walking a tightrope. But do you know what the best part is?”
“I don’t think there would be a best part,” I choked out, having somewhat recovered from the coughing fit.
“Oh, but there is,” he nodded, letting go of me. “It’s when you look into the person’s eyes in the final moment, and you see the fear change to acceptance the moment before they black out. Acceptance is a beautiful thing, Evie.”
The tires touched down on the ground, and the plane shook as we landed.
“Do you know what acceptance means?” he asked, standing up as we came to a stop. “It means that one gives up resistance.” He bent over and kissed me. His breath was hot and sour. “You don’t have to want, like, or choose it. You just have to assent to the reality of our situation without protest and accept it for what it is, and in the end, you will tell me everything you know.”
The door to the plane was opened, and the stairs unfolded to the tarmac. We walked down them into the cold, blustery wind. I wasn’t dressed for the weather and pulled the sleeves down on my thin sweater covering my hands. A land rover was parked off to the side. I followed Donovan and Cormac over to it as Donovan opened the back door, motioning for me to get in.
“Hello, Evie,” an older woman said as I sat down.
Everything went still, and I could hear the sound of my heart beating in my ears as dread filled my body.
