Page 89 of Bound By Crimson

Chapter Eighty-Nine

Not Now

Lyric slipped back into the house.

The door was heavier than usual. The hallway darker.

When Lyric opened her bedroom door, she knew something was wrong.

Sitting in the chair across from her bed.

A smile too sharp to be kind.

Waiting— Editha Thornwick .

Hands folded. Legs crossed. Perfect posture.

She looked like a cat toying with her prey.

“Well, well,” she said, voice smooth and mocking. “Look what we have here.”

Her gaze raked over Lyric.

“You look quite healthy… for someone who should be—”

She let the word hang, then smiled.

“—dead.”

Lyric’s heart jumped, but she forced herself still.

“What were you expecting?” she said coldly, stepping inside. “Turns out I’m not a fan of soup. Or poison.”

Editha’s smile tightened, but didn’t falter.

“To be honest,” she said, rising slowly, “I was starting to wonder if the dosage was too low. ”

She stepped closer, casually circling halfway around the bed.

“I heard Malachai came to see you,” she added. “That must’ve really stung. A dagger in your heart.”

“He’s nothing to me,” Lyric said, her voice sharper than she expected. “Just like you.”

Editha arched a brow, unbothered, and made her way toward the door. But then she turned, that glint in her eye sharp as ever.

“Oh, he isn’t? That’s funny. Because I spoke to him this morning.”

She circled back—slow, deliberate, like a vulture scenting blood.

“He said he’s willing to come back. To be a husband. A father. All you have to do…”

She paused, smile curving like a blade.

“…is be a good girl. Give him more children. Be what you’re meant to be.”

Lyric’s mouth twisted.

“I will never agree to that,” she snapped. “This family is sick.”

Something shifted.

She didn’t know what was coming—but her instincts screamed:

Move. Now.

Her weight shifted.

Editha noticed.

“Oh, I think you’ve had enough excitement for one night,” she said smoothly.

Then she reached into her pocket.

Pulled out something small.

She held it up between two fingers.

A glint of metal.

A delicate chain.

Her mother’s locket.

“Found this in Edwin’s room. He’s a beautiful child, isn’t he?”

“Don’t expect to see him again... ”

She tossed the necklace to the floor.

Lyric dropped to her knees, breath shallow.

It must have fallen off.

Her fingers closed around it—

Click.

Her head snapped up.

Editha was gone.

The door was shut.

And locked.

“No,” Lyric gasped, lunging forward.

She twisted the knob.

Nothing.

Panic surged, sharp and immediate.

She backed away, chest heaving, throat tight.

Grayson. Two days.

If I’m locked in again… I won’t make it.