Page 31 of Death

“Okay,” he murmurs, his tone meant to be soothing, but it has the opposite effect on me.

My heart keeps thundering in my chest, and goosebumps spread over my skin.

“I’m Santiago Castro,” he introduces himself.

My tongue darts out to lick my lips, and when a woman wearing a white coat walks into the room, she draws his attention away from me, and I make a mad dash for the door.

“Shit!” the woman gasps.

Just as I rush into the hallway, arms lock around me from behind, and I’m easily lifted off my feet.

A whimper escapes me as I’m carried back into the room, and as my wide eyes land on the bed, I hear the door being shut.

I struggle against Santiago’s hold with all my might, but nothing comes of it. Suddenly, I feel a sharp prick in my arm, and my head whips to the side in time to see the woman pull a needle out of my skin.

My eyes lift to hers, and giving her a pleading look, I’m unable to say anything as a medicated calmness gradually soaks into my bones until my eyes drift shut.

“Shh.” Nolan brushes his hand over my hair after he just beat me so badly I’m struggling to breathe past the sobs and shock. “This didn’t have to happen. I know you can be a good girl, Ciara. I watched you for three months, and this isn’t like you at all.”

I turn my head away from him, pressing my bruised face into the covers.

“It was love at first sight. The moment I saw you coming out of the house with Grace, I just knew we were meant to be. I immediately started making plans. I got this house from an elderly man.” He lets out a chuckle. “Well, I actually had to take it from him. But don’t worry. He's buried out back, so he won’t bother us.”

Oh God. He killed someone!

Waking up, I feel lethargic and struggle to open my eyes. I stare at a white ceiling, and it takes a moment for the memories to trickle into my mind.

My movements are sluggish as I lift my arm, but then I hear a chair creak, and I freeze.

I glance at the foot of the bed and see a man slowly walking toward me. I don’t recognize him.

“Hi, Ciara,” he murmurs, his voice smooth like velvet.

He knows my name?

Confused, I just stare at him.

“I’m Santiago. Do you remember me?”

I don’t respond to his question as he stops beside the bed, a gentle expression on his handsome face.

I take in the diamond stud in his left earlobe and the smaller stud in his left nostril. He has light brown strands sprinkled through his dark brown hair.

“How do you feel?” he asks.

My lips part, and my mouth feels dry as I whisper, “Weird. Sluggish.”

My mind won't work, and my eyes drift closed for a moment. I have to force them open, then say, “Water.”

The man reaches for a glass beside the bed, but when his hand slips behind my head, and he brings the water to my mouth, an overwhelming sense of fear shoots through me. I slap the glass away from me and try to dart to the right, but the man grabs hold of me.

“Shh. It’s okay. You’re safe.”

His words make my fear intensify, and I begin to sob while giving him a pleading look. “I’m sorry.” My breaths explode over my lips. “I ran. I got away.” I shake my head, not making sense of anything, as I stare at the man who looks nothing like Nolan.

His hands grip my shoulders, and he presses me back down onto the bed while saying, “You got away. I found you in a field. You’re safely in the hospital.”

What?