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My heart raced, a cold sweat breaking out across my forehead as his words sank in. The very idea was monstrous, a perversion of every notion of love and respect I held dear. "You're insane," I whispered, my voice trembling. "That's not love. That's enslavement."
Finn merely laughed, a sound devoid of any warmth. "Call it what you will. But in time, you'll see the truth. You'll come to me for your needs, for your salvation. And in that dependence, you'll find a love like no other. True love."
The horror of his words settled deep in my bones. To be so completely under Finn's control that I might begin to see him as some twisted form of god was terrifying beyond words. It was not just the loss of my freedom that frightened me; it was the potential erosion of my very identity, the warping of my feelings and memories.
His plan threatened to strip me of my autonomy, reducing me to a puppet whose strings he could pull at will. As I stood there tied up, listening to Finn's deluded vision of our future, I realized the true depth of his madness. He didn't just want to control me; he wanted to remake me in his image, to erase the person I was and replace her with someone capable of loving a monster like him.
The terror I felt was not just for the physical imprisonment I faced but for the spiritual and emotional annihilation that Finn aspired to. It was a fight not just for my freedom but for the essence of who I was, for the very soul that Finn sought to consume and corrupt.
Chapter 18: Hank
ON THE SIXTH DAY OF LINA'S DISAPPEARANCE, the tension in the air was almost tangible, as if the mansion itself was holding its breath, awaiting her return. Mike and I, along with Joe, had thrown ourselves into the search with a fervor that bordered on obsession. The most promising lead we had was a tip from an informant who claimed to have seen a woman matching Lina's description in a secluded cabin in the woods, far from the city's hustle and bustle. My heart had soared with hope, a fragile thing, desperate to latch onto any semblance of a chance to find her.
We organized a search team, coordinating with the local authorities to raid the cabin. The anticipation as we approached was overwhelming, each step heavier than the last, burdened with the weight of our collective hopes. But when we burst through the door, guns drawn and hearts in our throats, the cabin was empty. No sign of Lina, no sign of Finn—just the remnants of a fire long gone cold and the oppressive silence of abandoned hope. The disappointment was a physical blow, a punch to the gut that left me gasping for air, the bitter taste of failure coating my tongue.
The drive back was a blur, the landscape a mere backdrop to the turmoil churning within me. Then there had been Mike's hand on my shoulder, a silent gesture of solidarity, but it felt distant, disconnected from the reality of our failure. Joe's grim expression mirrored my own, a silent acknowledgment of the setback, yet another dead end in a search that seemed increasingly futile.
Back at the mansion, the quiet was suffocating, a stark contrast to the chaos of our efforts. My dreams of finding Lina had turned into a cruel mockery, each awakening a fresh hell of realization that she was still missing, still out there somewhere, in grave danger. The mansion felt haunted by her absence, echoes of her laughter and the phantom sounds of her presence a constant torment.
Mike and Joe's concern for my well-being was evident, their watchful eyes following my every move, but it did little to ease the burden of guilt and helplessness that weighed me down. The failure of our most promising lead left us adrift, clinging to fading hopes and the dwindling light of possibilities.
As the day drew to a close, the prospect of facing another night without Lina was unbearable. The cycle of hope and despair was a relentless torture, each failed lead a reminder of my failure to protect her, to keep her safe. The mansion, once a haven of love, laughter and happiness, now felt like a prison, each room a reminder of her absence.
I wasn't sure how much longer I could endure the agony of not knowing, the constant fear that we might never find her, that I might never hold my sweet girl again. The thought was a dagger to the heart, a pain so acute it threatened to consume me. But surrender was not an option; I couldn't—wouldn't—give up on my princess.
Just then as Mike suddenly burst into the room, breathless and eyes wide with what I hoped was a breakthrough, my heart leapt at the possibility of a new lead on Lina's whereabouts. The room, filled with the heavy air of despair and countless maps and notes scattered around, suddenly felt a bit lighter. Joe, who had been poring over his laptop, looked up, his expression mirroring my sudden spark of hope.
"What is it, Mike?" I urged, my voice rough from days of worry and sleepless nights.
Mike, still catching his breath, managed to shoot me a grin that was so characteristic of his Little state, a stark contrast to the tension that had gripped us. "Uncle Hank, I just remembered something super important!" His voice carried that mix of excitement and urgency that made me brace myself.
Joe leaned forward, his interest piqued as he watched Mike closely. "Spit it out, little one. What did you remember?"
With a dramatic flourish that only Mike could pull off in such grave circumstances, he mimed putting on an oversized detective hat and holding a magnifying glass to his eye. "Little Detective Mike is on the case!" he declared. Despite the situation, I couldn't help but appreciate his attempt to lighten the mood, though my patience was wearing thin.
"Mike, please, we need to focus. What lead do you have?" I pressed, trying to keep my voice steady despite the turmoil inside me.
"Oh, right! Sorry," Mike said, the playfulness fading as the seriousness of the situation dawned on him again. "So, I remembered that Lina could be carrying around theLittle Locatorprototype from Liltech. She told me she kept it in her pocket for safety when you weren't around."
Joe and I exchanged a glance, both of us processing the significance of what Mike was saying. TheLittle Locatorwas a cutting-edge device designed to track Littles' locations in real-time, a project we had collaborated on with Liltech but hadn't fully launched yet.
"She had it with her because she was afraid of Finn, wasn't she?" Joe surmised, his voice low.
Mike nodded, his expression somber. "Yeah, she was really scared of him. She even showed me the device once when it accidentally fell out of her pocket at the park. She made me promise not to tell anyone because she didn't want to worry you unnecessarily, Uncle Hank."
The revelation hit me like a ton of bricks. Lina had been living in fear, preparing for the worst while I remained oblivious to the depth of her anxiety. Guilt and frustration welled up inside me, but I pushed them aside, focusing on the sliver of hope Mike's memory had provided.
"Can we track it? Do we have access to the device's location?" I asked, already on my feet, ready to spring into action.
Mike's eyes sparkled with a mix of hope and determination. "We should be able to. I know the project lead at Liltech; I'll call her right now and explain the situation."
As Mike hurried to make the call, Joe and I shared a look of cautious optimism. For the first time in days, there was a tangible lead, a chance to find Lina and bring her back home. The weight of the past week, the sleepless nights and the relentless fear, seemed to lift slightly, replaced by a renewed sense of purpose.
We gathered around Mike as he spoke on the phone, his words a rapid-fire explanation of our desperate need to locate the device—and, by extension, Lina. The room was silent, save for Mike's voice, as we waited for the response from the other end of the line.
Finally, Mike hung up, a triumphant smile spreading across his face. "They're on it. They're going to track the device and send us the location as soon as they have it."
Relief, sharp and sweet, flooded through me. "Thank you, Mike. You may have just given us the key to finding her."
