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Chapter 47

Penulis: Chommy chilko
last update Terakhir Diperbarui: 2025-05-19 14:56:45

Chapter 47: A Scar Beneath the Surface

The mark.

----

Isla couldn't sleep—not after witnessing it etched into Christopher's chest. It was not a scar. It was a message. A warning. A foretelling of suffering. And now that she had witnessed it, something within her changed. Something wild and primal awoke beneath her skin.

She sat in her mother's old desk chair, the pages of her past scattered around her—half-charred letters, shattered photograph frames, receipts from a bygone era. All of it told a story, and nothing of it existed anymore. The woman she'd pictured her mother to be was carefully curated. Guarded. Wound in silk and silence. But underneath that poised quiet had been a woman fleeing, bleeding, in fear.

Victor had swiped over years—he'd swiped her identity, her choices, her control.

She ran her fingers around the edge of a browned journal, something her mother would don when they'd travel. In it were scraps—poems, sketches, pressed flowers. But toward the end, written in darker ink, were diary pages that felt… different.

>I heard the footsteps again. The same pattern. Three and then nothing. He knows where I'm buried. He never left.

Isla doesn't understand. She looks like me when I was her age—fragile and radiant. He'll come for her, too, one day. It's in his blood. And hers.

Isla's blood went cold.

It wasn't paranoia. Her mother knew Victor would do anything to possess the next generation. Until Isla herself was part of his making. His legacy.

She had to stop him. But how do you destroy a ghost? A man whose life was all about manipulation?

— 

By morning, Isla had made up her mind. She would find out where he was—location. Not letters and threats and scarring. She needed somewhere. Something tangible.

She found Ethan in the west wing, going through files Christopher had left him to deal with. The guy looked like he hadn't slept either.

"You won't like what I have to say," Isla told him bluntly.

Ethan shoved a lock of hair out of his eyes. "That's becoming a habit with you."

She handed him the journal of her mother. "He's pursuing me. Not just psychologically. He's mapped it out since before I was born."

Ethan scanned a few lines, face setting itself into determination. "These are not scribbles. This. this is a blueprint."

"To what?"

"To everything," Ethan answered. "Victor's line of thinking. His routines. If she wrote enough, we can utilize it."

"Good," replied Isla. "Because I need to find him. I need to see where he is. I need to look him in the eye before this is finished."

Ethan looked at her for a long time. "You're not ready."

"I'm not asking your permission," she shot back.

"Then don't anticipate protection either," he informed her.

"I'm not. I anticipate truth. And perhaps… a little assistance."

He ran a hand over his face, sighing. "I know someone. Someone who worked for him, years and years ago. If she's still alive, she might know where he's hiding now."

"Who is she?"

Ethan didn't want to say it out loud, but he had no choice. "Her name's Maris. She was one of his experiments."

Isla's eyes narrowed. "Experiments?"

"He doesn't just control. He tests people. Pushes them until they break. Maris didn't break. Not the way he wanted. She escaped."

"She'll talk?"

"She owes me," Ethan stated. "But it will cost her more to remember than it will cost you to ask."

The trip to the city limits was endless. Isla stared out the window as the scenery changed from trimmed streets to cracked sidewalks and rusty fences. They found Maris in a run-down apartment, a fortress of nothing and smoke.

She was in her sixties, hair white but eyes sharp. When she saw Ethan, she didn’t smile.

“Should’ve let me die when I asked,” she said by way of greeting.

“You’re too stubborn,” Ethan replied evenly.

Her gaze flicked to Isla. “She’s his, isn’t she?”

Isla blinked. “Excuse me?”

"Not by blood," Maris answered, smoking her cigarette. "But by design. Victor doesn't make mistakes. Whatever he touches, he intends to own. Not unless he's returning to you, girl, and it's because you're involved in something unfinished."

Isla stepped forward.

"Where is he?"

Maris exhaled smoke, slow and deliberate. "What're you gonna do if I tell you?"

"destroy all that he ever built."

A low laugh escaped Maris. “Your mother said the same thing. Look what it got her.”

Isla’s hands curled into fists. “I’m not her.”

“No,” Maris said. “You’re what she could’ve been. If she hadn’t loved him first.”

That silenced the room.

Finally, Maris pulled out an old drawer and produced a crumpled envelope. "I last heard he had a place in the North Highlands. Remote. Free of observation. That's where he retreats when he needs to feel in charge. He refers to it as 'the Nest.'"

Isla took the envelope. There were coordinates scribbled on the piece of paper, and strange symbols. A time. A name.

"Thanks," Isla whispered.

Maris met her eyes. "Be careful, girl. He's not going to kill you. That's not his style. He'll make you beg for him first."

The drive home was silent. Isla's mind filled. Her body tense.

Victor was real. Attainable. vulnerable.

And she was going to go up against him.

But not for herself.

For her mother.

For Christopher.

For all the wounds he had left behind.

She wasn't afraid of him anymore.

She was ready to fight.

Even though it was killing her.

---

---

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