chapter499 Martin's Gone For Good
It was four in the morning. Patricia stepped out of Country M's airport, a backpack with just a few clothes slung over her shoulder.
Charlotte must have been watching her from outside the airport. As soon as Patricia left the terminal, her phone rang.
Pulling out her phone and putting it to her ear, Patricia said, "Where are you?"
"Do you see that black sedan parked by the airport entrance? Get in."
Following her instructions, Patricia found the black sedan waiting just outside. The car sat silently at the roadside, cleverly hidden in the shadows beyond the reach of the streetlights. It appeared like a beast lurking in the darkness, emitting an aura of danger that sent chills down one's spine.
Patricia could not take her eyes off the vehicle. With the rear passenger window half down into the murky blackness, she couldn't see anything inside; despite that, the sense of danger emanating from the partially opened window was palpable. Once she got in, it might be nearly impossible to get out. However, without getting into that car, there would be no way to find out what had happened to Martin.
Charlotte, seemingly noting Patricia's hesitation, sneered . "I thought you cared Martin, that you'd risk even your life for him. Seems I was wrong. You value your own life more. Fine, you can still turn back now. Give it a couple of days, and I'll send Martin's body back to you."
Patricia knew Charlotte was egging her on. However, even without Charlotte's taunts, she would have gotten into the car.
Holding her phone, Patricia approached the sleek black sedan. Up close, she noticed a driver and another figure in the backseat—presumably a man, judging by the silhouette.
With a slight frown, Patricia tried the passenger door, which was locked and unyielding.
Charlotte's voice came through the phone again. "Sit in the back."
The words had not fully left her mouth when the rear door swung open.
"Get in." The hypnotic sound of Charlotte's voice echoed once more.
Patricia clenched her teeth, her reluctance rampant, but she bent down and slid into the car. With a "click," the door locked.
Patricia's breathing hitched, and before she could react, hands suddenly reached out, clamping over her mouth and nose. She struggled briefly, but then a heavy scent assailed her nostrils. Her body weakened, limbs went limp, her attempts to resist fading, and then, slowly, her eyes closed as consciousness slipped away.
Patricia had no idea how long she had been out. When she awoke, her temples throbbed fiercely as if someone were hammering on them.
She rubbed at her forehead, eyes still closed, only to hear a voice say, "Awake now?"
It was Charlotte's voice.
Patricia's alarm bells went off in an instant. Her eyes flew open to see a face, blurred and unrecognizable, grinning at her with bared teeth. As the woman smiled, the scars on her face twisted into an even more grotesque and terrifying sight.
Patricia recoiled with a start, instinctively let out a yelp, and scooted backward.
Charlotte raised an eyebrow. "What's the matter? Did I scare you?"
Patricia's hands shook as she pointed at her, and it took a moment before she could find her voice, stammering, "You... you're Charlotte?"
Charlotte ran a hand across her face, her sleeve sliding off her wrist. Only then did Patricia see it clearly; it was not just her face. Charlotte was covered in scars—her hands and her arms—the type left by severe burns.
"What happened to you?"
She looked neither fully human nor ghostlike. She'd surely terrify countless souls if she walked the streets at night.
Charlotte let out a sardonic chuckle. "How did this happen? You should know—you did this to me. I wouldn't be in this state if it weren't for you."
Patricia retorted, "What have I got to do with it? I never laid a finger on you. You've been the one after me relentlessly."
After speaking, as if something clicked, she scrambled to her feet. "Where's Martin? Where is he?"
She wanted to know what had happened to Charlotte, but her concern for Martin's safety was more significant. She had to find out where Martin was immediately.
Charlotte sunk into a chair, languorously leaning back, legs casually crossed, with a slight tilt in her posture, her right hand resting on the chair's back. Her voice came soft and disinterested, saying, "He's dead."
"What?" Patricia froze, unable to believe her ears.
Knowing Patricia had heard her but wasn't ready to accept it, Charlotte patiently repeated herself, "Dead. Dead as a doornail."
Patricia's world exploded as if something had detonated inside her brain. She backed away in disbelief, shaking her head. "No way; it can't be... He can't be dead. How could he die? You're lying. You must be lying..."
Seeing her like this, Charlotte was smug. She flashed a triumphant smile. "Does it hurt? When Hunter stabbed me, I felt the same searing pain as you do now."
Patricia didn't catch what she said; her mind was inundated with the thought that Martin was dead. Martin was gone.
She rushed to Charlotte, gripping her shoulders tightly, shaking her violently. "You're lying. Where is he? Tell me, where is he now?"
Her grip was so firm, as though she meant to crush Charlotte’s bones, but Charlotte seemed not to feel the pain.
She let Patricia clutch her and said calmly, "I witnessed Hunter do it. His bones must be shattered. His organs... all damaged, no doubt..." She chuckled, her shoulders bobbing with laughter. The scars on her face made it impossible for her to convey any expression, leaving only the sound of her laughter.
Patricia's grip slowly loosened; her strength ebbed away, leaving her to collapse onto the floor, limp.
She didn't want to believe Charlotte's words; Charlotte hated her and Martin so much. Yet, recalling the blood on the ground outside the cabin, Patricia's mind reluctantly accepted the harsh truth of Charlotte's words.
Martin was dead, murdered by Hunter.
Tears fell silently. At first, they were quiet, but soon, they turned into a torrent that could no longer be contained. She wrapped her arms around her knees and sobbed.
Charlotte clapped her hands mockingly, stood up, and straightened her clothes. "Cry, let it all out. Just like I did... But you know what? Tears won't ease the agony..."
Charlotte's voice faded, growing distant. And then, with a sharp "bang," it was cut off entirely by the closed door.
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