Page 178 of Bound By Crimson

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The journal was still there.

She clutched it to her chest, her breathing ragged.

At least they hadn’t found that.

Not yet.

But the violation was clear.

Someone had been in her room while she slept.

And they had taken her only connection to the outside world.

The hollow chime of the clock in the hall told her it was midday.

She knew instinctively:

Mrs. Thornwick would be in the dining room.

And Lyric was supposed to be there too.

Supposed to sit across from the woman who had orchestrated every piece of her life like a spider weaving a web.

Supposed to smile and pretend that woman wasn’t her—

Grandmother.

Her stomach twisted.

No more hiding.

She shoved the journal back under the mattress and pushed herself upright with a grunt, one hand braced on the edge of the bed.

Then she stormed down the hall, her steps heavy but determined, echoing in sharp rhythm across the polished floor.

She didn’t knock.

She threw open the dining room door.

Mrs. Thornwick sat alone at the long table, a cup of tea steaming in front of her, every inch of her posture smug and settled.

She looked up with a small, pleased smile.

“Well, you decided to join me after all,” she said sweetly, her eyes skimming over Lyric’s tangled hair and pale face.

“You look like a mess, dear.”

Lyric’s hands curled into fists at her sides.

“Where is it?” she demanded, voice shaking.

Mrs. Thornwick raised her brows, feigning innocence.

“Where is what, dear?”

“You know damn well what I want.”

The smile fell from Mrs. Thornwick’s face, replaced with a chilling calm.

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