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Rafferty

W here the fuck is she?

I feel like I keep asking that question over and over and all I’m met with is the same blank, robotic stares.

What the fuck is this? Has Alexander drugged everyone in this damned house?

I know I shouldn’t do it. I know this is overstepping, but I have to make the call. I have to let him know. He’ll be furious that I do, furious that I’m putting all the carefully laid plans at risk and yet, if she’s dead, if they’ve killed her…

No. They haven’t killed her.

They wouldn’t. Not yet.

There’s a timeline to this. They have just as much of a carefully constructed plan as we do.

Scarlett is alive. She’s worth too much to them for it to be otherwise.

The reply I get back is curt. To the point.

It’s as good as fucking useless.

He tells me that Scarlett is doing what is necessary and that I should be doing the same. Like that means anything.

I start going from room to room, starting with hers. I don’t know what I was expecting, I don’t know if I imagined she’d just be there, tucked up in bed, fast asleep and safe and sound.

But it’s empty. Stripped down. The air feels stale. It’s like she never existed in this space.

Where the fuck is she?

I let out a roar of frustration before I storm out of the room. If I have to search this entire house, then I will. If I have to go room to room, check every crevice, every damned priest hole, every space capable of hiding a person then by God I will do it.

I will find her.

I will.

Even if it kills me.