Page 189 of Cerulean Truth
The cerulean light of my haze sliced through the advancing darkness, revealing absolutely nothing. The taste of agonizing fear was bitter in my mouth, and a cold sweat trickled down my spine.
Damn it. I had to find Emma.Now.
As I searched through the house thoroughly, my heart drummed against my chest, each beat echoing my rising panic. Every shadowy corner seemed to hold the promise of pure terror, intensifying the knot of dread tightening in my gut.
"James!" Julian's yell jolted me, and I sprinted back outside, clinging to the hope he had found Emma somewhere near.
But instead, he handed me a black sleek device. Her Nexus. The one he’d tracked. The one she’d left behind. The one, broken in different pieces, clear evidence of being taken against her will.
All the air rushed from my lungs, and my face drained of color.
She was taken. Emma had been taken.
FIFTY-TWO
EMMA
I woke abruptly, my body shaking with unnatural tremors. The sharp scent of detergent assaulted my nose, and a metallic taste lingered in my mouth, making each swallow difficult.
Struggling to keep the rising nausea at bay, the foul flavor intensified, heightening my sense of helplessness. The air felt thick, each breath a fight for the good of my lungs.
Battling the weight of my heavy eyelids, I managed to slowly open my eyes. The room revealed itself eerily clean—sterile, almost. White walls were closing me in, reflecting an unsettling silence, permeated by a quiet desperation.
Gradually regaining my other senses, I realized I was seated on a chair, though strangely not bound. Movement was limited though, as if some invisible constraint held me in check.
I tried to keep out the inevitable hysteria as I attempted to recall how I ended up here. But my memories were elusive, slipping through the cracks of my consciousness like water through clenched fists.
The last thing I remembered was walking up to my childhood home…
Looking around, the room offered no clues. No windows, no discernible doors—just an unsettling emptiness that pressedagainst my chest. I tried to call out, my hoarse voice echoing in the sterile chamber, but there was no reply. The silence remained unbroken, mocking my confusion.
“Good. You’re awake.”
I jolted, frantically scanning where the voice was coming from.
“He’s coming in.”
What? Who was that? And who was coming in?
A portal materialized a second later, and a tall stunning man stepped through, dressed in Offensive-attire—no jacket, only a black, form-fitting T-shirt that showcased his tattoos, paired with combat pants and boots. Lacking the Skindo-tattoo, he clearly hailed from a different Collective.
My eyes narrowed, studying his features but he didn’t look familiar at all.
With his large, muscular built, intense dark brown eyes and pitch-black hair, he reminded me of those crazy cage fighters. Handsome though he was, the ruthlessness etched in his features was unmistakable. His dark, haunting eyes and the menacing scar that traced the side of his neck hinted at the countless battles he’d fought and won. A warrior, through and through.
Where James was lean and lethal, this man was rough and tough.
But then he smiled, and his entire rugged look transformed into something charming.
I swallowed hard.A wolf in sheep's clothing.
My entire being was instantly on high alert; everything about him screamed “not to be trusted.”
“Miss Thompson,” he greeted me in a low sultry voice, translating himself a chair before me.
Shit, that voice did something to me. All my panic aside, I hated to admit this guy wasincrediblygorgeous.
“Mister Abductor,” I greeted back, instantly startled by the raspy tone of my voice. How long had I been out?
