Chapter 41 LILY
LILY
The first thing I feel is my mouth.
It tastes funny. Dry like cotton stuffed between my teeth, but also bitter, chemical, like chalk or old medicine left dissolving on my tongue for too long. My throat feels scratchy when I try to swallow, the muscles not quite responding the way they should.
Then hearing returns gradually, sounds filtering in through layers of fog. A female voice, distant but familiar, the words sharp-edged even though they sound like they're coming from underwater.
"See, I told you the roofies would be handy."
I know that voice. I definitely know it. But my brain can't connect it to a name or face yet, the synapses firing too slowly, thoughts moving through sludge.
My head is throbbing with a pain that pulses in time with my heartbeat, each throb making my skull feel like it might split open. The weight of it is incredible, like someone replaced my brain with lead. I try to lift my hand to touch it, to press against my temple where the pain is worst.
I can't move.
My whole body feels heavy, weighted down like I'm underwater or buried under blankets or pinned by something I can't see.
It's not just heaviness. There's resistance. Actual physical resistance when I try to move my wrists.
My hands are tied.
I force my eyes open, the lids heavy and reluctant. My head is hanging low, chin nearly touching my chest. I can see my feet below me, ankles bound with what looks like zip ties to the legs of a chair. Both my hands behind my back and my feet in front. I'm completely immobilized.
When I finally manage to lift my head, fighting against muscles that don't want to cooperate, the first thing I see is my brother.
Henry.
Standing maybe ten feet away, leaning over a derelict table that looks like it's been here for decades. His head is bent. His hand moves to his nose. He snorts a line of white powder with practiced efficiency.
I close my eyes immediately, a reflex, like if I can't see it then it isn't real. My breathing becomes frantic, shallow and fast, panic rising in my throat like bile.
This can't be real. I'm hallucinating.
The last thing I remember with any clarity is walking to Henry's house after getting Sarah's panicked text.
Sarah answered the door with a smile that seemed genuine.
She said she was feeling better, that the pains had stopped, that she probably overreacted because it was her first pregnancy and everything scared her.
But since I was already there, why didn't we have some tea and catch up?
And then nothing. A blank space where memory should be. Just gone, like someone cut the film.
I try to take a steadying breath but it's painful, my chest tight and constricted, ribs aching like I've been hit.
I force myself to look around, to assess, to understand where I am and what's happening.
The space is industrial, all concrete and metal and cold surfaces. Abandoned, clearly, with that particular kind of neglect that comes from years of disuse. A storage facility maybe, or the back section of a warehouse.
There isn't much light. A few bare bulbs hanging from exposed beams, casting harsh shadows that make everything look menacing. It must be night by now, though I have no idea how long I've been here or how long I was unconscious.
I can hear water somewhere close. The steady rush and lap of a river maybe, nearby but muffled by concrete walls.
The sharp sound of snorting brings my attention back to the table. This time it's Sarah bent over the surface, her blonde hair falling forward as she leans down. She straightens, wiping her nose, her eyes bright and dilated.
Cold runs down my spine like ice water in my veins, the realization settling into my bones with sickening certainty.
Henry and Sarah drugged me. Waited for me to pass out. Brought me here while I was unconscious and helpless.
But why? What could they possibly want that would lead to this?
Sarah notices me watching. Turns her head and smiles, the expression wrong, too wide, chemically enhanced. "Babe, I think she's awake."
Henry looks over at me finally, his eyes hazy and unfocused, pupils blown wide from whatever he just put up his nose. He shrugs one shoulder with complete indifference, like my consciousness is mildly interesting but not particularly important.
I find my voice after a few tries, my throat dry and words coming out raspy. "Why are you doing this?"
Henry's face twists into something ugly, resentment and anger flooding his features.
"It's your fault, Lily. All of it. I found out you're engaged to Luan Krasniqi.
Filthy fucking rich. Powerful. Connected.
And you didn't even tell me? Your own brother?
Didn't invite me to the engagement party?
You always were a selfish bitch, always thinking you're better than me. "
His voice is rising, becoming more erratic, more aggressive with each word. The paranoia and grandiosity of someone high and spiraling. Only now do I notice the gun in his hand, hanging at his side almost casually, like it's an extension of his arm. Black metal catching the harsh light.
Terror spikes through me but I push it down. Try to stay calm. Try to explain. "Henry, please. I can explain. It's complicated. The engagement happened fast. I was going to tell you, I just needed time to figure out how."
He interrupts before I can continue, his free hand gesturing wildly. "Don't act like you're some saint. Like you're better than the rest of us. You're willing to marry a man like Luan Krasniqi. Do you even know who he is? What he does? The blood on his hands?"
"I do know," I say quietly. "I know exactly who he is. And I love him anyway."
Henry's laugh is sharp and bitter. He smirks, the expression cold and calculating despite the drugs.
"Love! That's perfect. That's why he's going to pay the ransom I asked for.
One million dollars to get his precious fiancée back.
By the way, thanks for not changing the password on your phone since you were twelve. "
My stomach drops. "Luan might pay. But he'll come after you, Henry. You know he will. There's still time. You can let me go right now. Disappear before this gets worse."
Henry and Sarah look at each other. For a moment I think maybe I've gotten through. Maybe there's still a chance.
Then they both start laughing. Manic. Unhinged. The sound echoing off the concrete walls.
"Luan will never know who kidnapped you," Henry says, his voice full of false confidence and drug-fueled bravado. "I'm smarter than you think. I made it look like the Irish mafia did it. He'll go after them, not me. By the time anyone figures it out, we'll be long gone with the money."
"I know it was you!" I yell, my voice cracking. "I'll tell them the truth!"
Sarah moves closer, her footsteps deliberate on the concrete floor. Gets right in my face, close enough that I can smell the chemical sweetness on her breath. When she speaks, her voice is eerily calm, practical, like she's explaining something obvious to a child.
"And what makes you believe you're going to be around to tell anyone the truth, Lily?"
They're going to kill me. They don't plan to let me live.
I look at Henry, trying desperately to see something of the boy he used to be. The awkward teenager who lost his parents too young and struggled to cope. The brother I tried so hard to save, to protect, to keep from drowning in grief and bad choices.
All I see is a stranger wearing my brother's face.
Sarah goes back to the table casually, like we're having a normal conversation instead of her casually discussing my murder. Bends over and snorts another line with practiced ease.
I'm starting to see them clearly now, maybe for the first time ever. See them for what they really are. Not victims of circumstance. Not people I can save with enough love and money and sacrifice.
Just selfish. Just users.
"The baby?" I ask, my voice barely above a whisper. Already knowing the answer. Already feeling it settle into truth.
Sarah doesn't even bother looking at me this time.
"There is no baby, Lily. There never was.
Same way there were no real gambling debts that needed paying.
We just needed money for other things." She gestures loosely to the table covered in white powder and drug paraphernalia.
"This shit isn't cheap. And we like the good stuff. "
The words land like physical blows.
There is no baby. There never was a baby.
Everything I sacrificed. Every choice I made. Every compromise. All of it based on a lie. A manipulation. A con designed to extract money from someone they knew would always give it.
I let my head hang forward, chin dropping to my chest. Final understanding washing through me.
I'm not responsible for saving him. I never was. He doesn't want to be saved.