24
The truck sputtered and groaned as Dominic jammed his foot onto the gas pedal, lurching forward like a dying animal forced back to life. My head snapped against the headrest, the bag over my face tightening with the sudden jolt. The damp fabric clung to my skin, muffling my gasps, and the stale scent filled my nostrils. The air inside the bag was hot, suffocating, making my chest ache with every shallow breath.
I tried to focus on anything else. The rhythmic hum of the tires against the asphalt, the occasional crackle from the radio. The truck itself rattled with every bump, a far cry from the sleek machines Dominic used to obsess over. This thing was a relic, barely holding together, with a groaning engine and seats that felt like they were stuffed with broken springs.
Through it all, I could feel him watching me. Not physically—I couldn’t see him—but the weight of his gaze was unmistakable. It pressed against me like a predator studying prey, daring me to break the fragile silence.
I refused to give him the satisfaction.
Instead, I flexed my wrists against the ropes binding them, the rough fibers biting into my skin. The burn grounded me, helped me push back the rising panic. My pulse thundered in my ears, loud and uneven, but I clenched my jaw and forced myself to speak.
“Where are you taking me?” My voice cracked but came out stronger than I expected.
He didn’t respond right away. The truck hit another pothole, jarring my whole body, and I winced as my shoulder knocked against the door. I hated the silence—how deliberate it felt. Like he was savoring the power he held, letting the tension build until I was choking on it.
“Someone’s been waiting a long time to see you,” he said finally, his voice calm. Too calm.
A chill crept down my spine.
“What the hell does that mean?” I asked, sharper this time.
Dominic chuckled, low and humorless. The sound was infuriating. It crawled under my skin, set my teeth on edge.
“You’ll find out soon enough.”
My heart thudded against my ribs. “You think you’re scaring me?” I spat, hoping my anger could mask the tremor in my voice.
“You should be scared,” he said simply, as if it were a fact, not a threat. “But you’re not there yet.”
I bit the inside of my cheek, hard enough to taste blood.
“Cut the cryptic crap, Dominic,” I snapped. “If you’ve got something to say, just say it.”
For a moment, the only response was the steady grind of the tires and the occasional sputter from the engine. Then, in that same maddeningly casual tone, he said, “Tell me, Eleanor, how’s your brother been?”
The words hit me like a punch to the gut.
“What?” I whispered, the sound barely audible.
“You heard me.”
“No,” I said, shaking my head, even though I knew he couldn’t see it. “Don’t you dare bring him into this.”
His laugh was colder this time, more of a sneer.
“Oh, I didn’t bring him into this. He’s been in it from the start.”
My stomach twisted, and my breathing turned shallow. My brother was dead. He’d been dead for years. I’d stood over his grave, mourned the life we were supposed to share.
“You’re lying,” I said, forcing steel into my voice, even as my hands trembled against the ropes. “He’s dead, Dominic. I buried him.”
“Are you sure about that?”
I froze.
His words hung in the air, heavy and suffocating.
“What do you mean?” I demanded, louder this time. “What the hell do you mean by that?”
He didn’t answer. Instead, the truck began to slow, the tires crunching over gravel now. My pulse spiked as the engine groaned to a stop, and suddenly, everything was still.
The silence was unbearable.
I heard Dominic shift in his seat, the creak of old leather, followed by the sharp click of his seatbelt. His door groaned open, and the cool night air rushed in, brushing against the damp fabric over my face.
“Dominic!” I called, my voice breaking. “Who’s waiting for me?”
His boots crunched against the gravel as he stepped out, the sound growing fainter as he moved away. Then, as if remembering I was still there, he stopped.
“You’ll see,” he said, his voice calm but laced with something darker. “He’s been waiting a long time for this.”
The door slammed shut, and I flinched at the sound.
Panic surged through me. My breaths came faster, shallower, the bag over my head sticking to my face with every gasp.
It couldn’t be him. It *couldn’t.*
But Dominic’s words echoed in my head, cruel and unshakable.
He’s been waiting a long time for this.
My brother was dead.
Wasn’t he?
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