Chapter 23
The road ahead of me is a blur of rain. The only shimmer of light passing through is from the headlights of other vehicles. My phone chimes, and Malik’s name pops up on the display. It’s a voice note instead of a text.
I press play and swallow back the tears as he speaks.
“You may have slowed me down by removing the transmission from my car, but I’m coming for you, Isla. You belong to me. You have since that night in the graveyard.”
Graveyard? I gasp, the puzzle finally starting to take shape.
“No matter where you hide, whatever hole you sneak into, I will always find you. I’m now a part of you, etched into your bones and tangled in your blood.
You might think you’re safe from me, but you’re not.
It hurts, doesn’t it? The thought that I’ll die before I let you go.
That no matter how hard you claw your way out, I’ll always find a way to drag you back.
So run Little Nycto, because when I find you, you’ll beg me to destroy you, and piece by piece, you’re going to fucking let me. ”
The voice clip ends, and the silence in my car is overwhelming.
My knuckles blanch as I watch the rearview mirror, like the only thing keeping me inside the car is my iron grip on this steering wheel. I can’t help looking back because every second away from him for the last few weeks felt like a knife to my chest. Each breath, too fucking painful.
As I approach the exit to Brighton, my wipers slap across the windshield repeatedly, and the ache is back, growing behind my eyes.
The pain hits before I’m able to pull over, blinding me as I struggle to keep my eyes open.
I manage to find a spot to turn into a side street, just before the pain pulses like a thousand needles trying to tear through my skull.
I squeeze my eyes shut, but the broken memories flood in, disregarding my attempts to stop them.
“We need them to forget everything they saw,” a familiar voice pounds inside my head, drawing out the memory. I’m pushed further into it as I cover my ears, pieces from that night rushing in like a wave.
“Are we certain it’s effective?” Another familiar voice, distorted and close by, but all I see is black.
“There’s only one way to know for sure, but we cannot guarantee it won’t mess with her other memories.”
My heart beats frantically as I push through the pain.
“Fuck, just remember!” I slam my hands onto the steering wheel and let out a blood-curdling scream as the image of the man’s lifeless blue eyes fills my vision.
Who are you?
In a flash, I blink, and I see Beatrice. Her clothes are torn, her eyes red and wide as she stares up at me, waiting for something.
The fragmented memories that I’ve spent years trying to decipher are no closer to providing me with any of the truth I seek.
I pinch the bridge of my nose as the headache’s final surge rolls through me.
Sifting through my bag with one hand, I grab the bottle of pills and swallow down two, resting my head against the seat.
As my eyes close, Malik’s ones open, filled with regret, desperation, and longing.
“I am choosing you.” His voice echoes in my head as I replay the memory, etching his face into my mind so I don’t forget.
I had to walk away. It was the only way forward, the only way to break whatever was between us, but I can still feel his warmth beside me, lingering on my skin.
I can feel the tears, unexpected and warm, trickle down my cheeks, but I make no move to wipe them away because I know they will keep coming.
You cannot have him.
I say these words over and over again in my head, like a mantra, as his devastatingly beautiful face stares right back at me.
He’s toxic. He will poison you. He’ll never love you.
Even as the thoughts slip through my mind, I know they alone won’t be enough to keep me from him. I can still feel him, his presence so heavy it might as well be his boot on my throat.
I want to scream, to break something.
Maybe wrap my car around a tree to finally stop all the hurt inside me.
The dreary light of the day creeps in as I open my eyes. Headlights flicker past me as I put the car into drive when Astrid’s name appears on my screen.
I tap the answer button.
“Astrid? I should be there in ten minutes.”
“Isla,” she sobs, and the blood drains from my head. “Isla, there’s so much blood.”
What? Blood?
“What happened?”
Her wails are all I hear before her voice becomes distant. “My baby,” she cries as other voices filter through the phone.
“Astrid!? Astrid, what’s going on?”
“Miss, please, we need to get you to a hospital,” a deep voice says through the phone at a distance.
“Hello!?” I press the gas harder, my speed climbing slowly.
There’s a clatter before someone speaks into the phone. “Hello?”
“Where are you taking her? I’ll get there as soon as I can.” The speedometer climbs to one hundred and thirty, well over the speed limit.
“Brighton General. But Miss...” he trails off.
“What!? What!? For fucks sake, what happened? Is she okay?”
“We heard her screams, and when we entered the apartment, she was surrounded by red sheets.”
Fuck. FUCK!!
“Okay, I’m on my way.”
I hang up, changing my direction to head straight for the hospital when my phone pings.
The pop-up on my screen is from an unknown sender.
It’s time now for you to find out exactly what you’ve been searching for.
Just as I finish, two black Mercedes vehicles close in on either side of my car.
I hover over the gas pedal, about to floor it, when another pulls in front of me.
I taste the vomit in my mouth as I spot another behind me.
Their windows are dark, not allowing me to view who’s behind the wheel, and I have nowhere to go but follow wherever they want me to.
Another message comes through.
If you want to know what happened to you and your sister, follow the car in front. If you stray or refuse to comply, we will come after Astrid.
They must want something from me. Why would they go to these lengths if they didn’t?
I can’t think about anything else besides what’s going to happen as I follow the vehicles. Glancing at the screen, my finger twitches.
I should call Malik.
But if you do, you’ll never know exactly what happened that night.
Do you truly want to know?
I hate this. I hate everything about this situation.
We’ve been driving for an hour and a half when the two cars disappear from either side of me as we enter Brixton.
Two at the front and two at the back, we drive into a secluded area, somewhere in the back streets, and roll to a stop.
Reaching into my bag, I find the gun and stuff it behind me inside the waistband of my trousers.
A man exits the vehicle in front, and another from the back. I unlock the doors and curl my hand around the handle, ready to attack. When the one with the glasses reaches for my door, I push it open hard, cracking him in the nose.
Swallowing down the fear, I reach for my gun behind me, but I’m pushed back by the other, my arm wedged between the car and my back.
I scream and tear through my lungs, hoping someone nearby will hear me before another one of them appears, then my whole world darkens as he places a bag over my head.
“Keep her eyes covered,” one of them says as I’m hurled forward.
“You can’t hurt me,” I breathe, my arms twisting behind me as something pinches the skin around my wrists. “He’ll find you.”
There’s a chuckle and the sound of a car door opening.
“Don’t worry, Isla Knight, where you’re going, they’ll take very good care of you.”
I’m shoved into a car, and all I can do is twist and writhe, trying desperately to get out of the binds when I’m struck frozen by a voice.
“Don’t hurt her,” he says in a low tone, the familiar timbre meant to be soothing and protective, but instead, it fills me with dread.
Dad?
I barely hear my own thoughts as the car sways me back, pressing my arms into the seat.