Page 79 of Blood Heir

I tilt my head, smiling sweetly—a smile that never reaches my eyes.

“You’ll do exactly as I ask.” My voice drops, razor sharp. “That’s the only way you’ll have your life after betraying me.”

Her eyes widen. The blood drains from her face as realization floods in. She knows. She knows that I remember everything. Her lips quiver, but no words come out. Fear shines through her fake bravado. She opens and closes her mouth like a stranded fish, struggling to breathe under the weight of my stare.

I point toward the large storage box sitting by the wall. “I’ll enter in there. You’ll get me out.”

Emilia stares at the box, horror swimming in her eyes. “You’re insane,” she breathes.

But she moves, legs shaky, hands fumbling as she unzips the massive black case. She pulls out the clothes stacked inside, her fingers trembling, glancing at me like she expects me to change my mind at any second.

I slide into the box smoothly, pulling my knees to my chest, folding into the cramped space. My heart hammers in my ears, but my face remains blank. Emilia’s pale hands quickly begin layering the clothes over me, her breath quickening with every fold.

She zips the box slowly, sealing me inside. I hear the teeth of the zipper pull shut above my head, plunging me into darkness.

Then—the door opens. Heavy footsteps. Cassian’s voice.

“The car is ready. I’ll drive you.”

There’s a beat of silence. Emilia’s voice comes out too fast, too high-pitched. “I’ll drive myself.”

Cassian pauses. “Why? I was hoping we would talk about last—”

“I can drive.” Her voice cracks slightly. “Can you ask the men to come help me move these?”

A tense silence fills the room.

Finally, Cassian’s voice responds, cool and professional. “Yes.”

I press my lips together, steadying my breathing as I hear him leave.

I’m curled in tighter than I thought my body could manage. My knees are practically glued to my chest, my spine screaming in protest. The air in here turns thick fast, wrapping around me like a hot, sticky cloth. Every bump of the box sends my stomach lurching.

I hear footsteps, heavy ones. Then a grunt.

“God, what did you pack in here? Cement?” a man mutters outside.

Emilia’s voice follows, light and sharp like a blade masked in sugar. “Well, it’s all my things, you know? A girl needs options. Don’t be dramatic. Get someone to help you if you’re too weak to lift.”

There’s a pause. I hear her breath catch. She’s nervous. Good.

Another pair of footsteps joins. Now there are two of them. The box shifts, tilts dangerously, and I bite down hard to stop from yelping. My head slams gently against the side. They’re moving me.

“Lift it from there. No, no—wait—you’ve got it? Careful,” one says, huffing.

I count the paces as they carry me out and down a staircase—I feel the dips beneath me. My stomach flips again as we reach what must be the front of the house. The breeze slips through the zipper seams, just enough to tease my face.

Then the car trunk pops open with a loud clunk.

“Here we go.”

They heave me inside, the box scraping against the trunk’s edges as I land with a solid thud. My head knocks again, and I squeeze my eyes shut, biting back a curse. The trunk slams shut, and everything goes black.

I’m trapped. Fully.

The air grows thinner with every breath I take. The heat wraps tighter around me. My chest rises faster. I try to slow it down—deep breath in, long breath out. I count. Over and over.

One. Two. Three.

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