Page 85 of Redemption

Chapter Thirty-Eight

Carys

Myheadpounds,andwhen I try to open my eyes, the bright lighting causes a groan to escape. I’m sitting up, and my neck is stiff, sore, not happy about propping up my head.

“She’s waking up,” a female voice cries.

Is that—is that my mother? Where am I?

“Mom?” I crack open an eye to squint in the direction I heard her speak. The woman across from me is my mother, but she’s dirty. Makeup is smeared across her face, and her hair is in disarray. Do I look that awful? “Where are we?” Beside my mother, my father stares blankly, his mouth taped shut.

I glance around the white room. The tiny window to the right makes me think we’re in a basement. The sky and the canopy of a mature tree are visible from where I sit.

“I don’t know.” My mom sniffles. “I got a phone call from your father a few days ago to meet him for dinner in Kilkenny. But the restaurant didn’t exist, and when I got there—” She starts to cry, and her sobs drown out the last of her words.

No need to tell me the rest since the same thing happened to me.

“Why is Dad’s mouth taped?” I peer at him. Although he’s awake, he doesn’t seem to be following my conversation with my mom. His stare is sightless.

“He’s—” She hiccups. “He’s drugged.”

“How long has he been here?” His doctor friend, John, said he spoke to him a week or so ago, and didn’t Connor say the same thing? I tried to get in touch with him for days with no luck. Has he been in this basement for a week? How has no one noticed or reported him missing?

Tears run unchecked down my mother’s cheeks, and she shakes her head. “I don’t know.”

Her helplessness annoys me. I test whatever is holding my arms secure behind my metal chair. There’s no give to the plastic, and they’ve placed it above my cast on one side, so I’m forced into a weird angle. My ankles are also restrained. My mother and father have thick plastic bands around their ankles, and I have to assume mine are the same. Not easy to bend, break, or saw. Not that I have tools or anything else to get me out of here. Am I in Ireland or somewhere else?

“When did I get here? What day it is?”

She shakes her head, but she consults what must be a clock behind me and reads off the time. I realize wherever they’ve taken me, assuming today is the same day, we haven’t gone more than a couple hours. If I can keep a level head, despite its pounding, I might figure a way out of here.

The door at my rear clicks open, and the strike of heels on concrete makes me tense. It has to be Jade, here to gloat or threaten. Maybe both. She hasn’t killed either of my parents. She took me alive. So, what does she want? Do I already know?

She’s carrying a knife when she comes around me so I can see her. It’s the same knife I saw Pierre-Jacques take out of his pocket many times. Sharp and tiny. The kind meant for carving or covert stabbing. Death by a thousand cuts.

“You’re awake.” She smiles, but there’s no greeting in her expression. “I thought maybe the high-speed chase took too much out of you. Thomas gave you more protection than I anticipated.” She tilts her head, examining me. “In the end, it didn’t matter.” She slides the knife across my cheek, and I flinch. Blood trickles down from the cut.

My mother cries out, and Jade spins on her heel to address her. “Don’t worry. It’s not deep enough to scar.” She turns back to me, her mouth twisted with calculation. “Not yet, anyway.”

“It’s fine, Mother.” I maintain eye contact with Jade. “When Finn finds me, she’ll regret every single drop of my blood she shed.”

“Sassy even when confronted with your imminent death.”

I feel the color drain from my face, but I can’t do anything about the bolt of shock and despair racing through me at her words. Bluffing is all I’ve got. She wants fear, and I won’t show her a wisp if I can help it.

“I must say.” She taps the tip of the blade with her nail. “I was worried you were too much of a damsel in distress to handle being kidnapped. It’s nice that you’re trying not to be afraid. It’ll be so much more satisfying when I break you.”

“Leave her alone,” my mother pleads. “Break me instead. Leave her alone.”

Jade glances over her shoulder. “You’re already broken. What’s the fun in that?”

“Do your worst,” I mutter. “I can guarantee for every torture you inflict on me, Finn will find a way to repay in kind.”

She circles me, and her blade slides into my other cheek. This time, I don’t wince. A paper cut. A sharp sting, but if I ignore the pain, it’ll go away. From behind me, the chair screeches on the floor as she draws it around close to me and sits down.

“Since you keep bringing him up like he’s some kind of savior, let’s talk about Finn. Did you realize he killed my boyfriend?”

Do I want to participate in this conversation? If Finn does come for me, and we make it out of here, I might learn something important about her plan or her motives. “I did.”

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