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Chapter 187: Tania
Last Updated:
2026-01-12 05:27:37
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Remember me naked Chapter 187: Tania
TaniaBut someone is missing. Lyra. And the emptiness she leaves is like a gaping wound open to the unknown.Lyra's mother collapses onto an armchair, her hands empty; her face has become exhaustion. Her husband closes his eyes, breathes once, twice, then, in a broken but determined voice, announces:— We won't give up on her. We will find her.The promise hangs in the air. It is fragile, yet it brings together all the aching bodies that remain. At the end of the alley, a shadow slips away, quick and low, perhaps a trace, perhaps the simple reminder that the night has not revealed all its secrets. The investigation begins, and with it the race against time. I have never been good at waiting. Every minute tears at me like a thread pulled too tight. When I finally arrive in front of the house, out of breath, shoes covered in mud, the scene hits me like a dull blow: sirens, flashing lights, silhouettes running. My throat tightens. My brain spins in vain. Where is Lucas? Where is Lyra?
Remember me naked Chapter 186: After the Shadow
They left like a storm passes, leaving behind the crash and the smell of burnt tires. The living room door still hangs on its hinges, a cold breath opens and closes the shutters of a house emptied of its tranquility. The silence that follows is heavier than any noise: it screams everything that words refuse.Alexandre lies on the tiled floor, his shirt open, a dark stain spreading under his neck. He does not move. His breath is weak, like a sheet barely lifted. Beside him, a tipped glass greens the light; a pool of liquid blends with something more terrible. Alexandre's face is pale, his features frozen in an expression that belongs only to those who have given so much that they seem to fade away.Lucas is kneeling on the lawn, his hand pressed against his side, an arm that refuses to stay clean. He spits blood that stains the grass, bright red against the nighttime pallor. His eyes, when caught, are wild with pain and determination. He tries to rise, stumbles, falls back down. It see
Remember me naked Chapter 185: Who Are They?
LyraThe man hangs up. He returns to his seat, his face impassive. He crosses his arms and then looks at me as one examines a sick animal. He leans back, taking his time, as if offering a pause to his patience. Perhaps he was trying to make me suffer more, to see how far I would go in my confusion.— You know very well who we are looking for, he finally says. You know what we mean by 'repair.' Or you play the victim, and then… he shrugs, as if the future of my loved ones depended on that gesture.I feel the cage tighten around me; I can hardly breathe. I try to stay calm, to make myself small. I mustn't get angry; I need to understand, listen. So I speak, softly, each sentence measured.— Is it Cassandra who paid you to do this? Then say it clearly. She is in prison; you can… I stop, unable to finish. It is absurd to propose solutions to people who lead this theater of fear.He tilts his head, as if appreciating my openness. His eyes, where the skin wrinkles around the mask, seem to s
Remember me naked Chapter 184: Questions
LyraThe silhouette remains in the doorway, motionless for a few seconds as if to gauge the scene, then steps forward. The light from the hallway outlines sharp contours on its masked face. I see neither eyes nor features, only the shadow of a smile perhaps, or the relief of a clenched jaw. The other men step back, yielding space to him like a captain.I sit up as best as I can in the chair; the straw scratches my skin, my wrists throb. My voice comes out hoarse, but I refuse to let it break.— What do you want? I say in a tone meant to sound authoritative even though I fear betraying myself.Silence. Then the man sits across from me without removing his mask. He examines my bound hands, my face, as if trying to read a map. A small, sharp noise: he places something on the table, a notebook or a folder whose contents I cannot distinguish. He waits for me to speak, for a hint to emerge from me.— Speak, I insist. If you want money, say so. If it’s not me, maybe you’ve got the wrong pers
Remember me naked Chapter 183: Abducted
LyraThe kidnappers drag me, forcing me to cross the living room turned into chaos. They push me towards a black car waiting in the driveway, engine hot, headlights off. The night is dense, the sky shrugging its shoulders. In the guest room, the party's music is replaced by sharp orders and ragged breaths. One of the men slams me against the back seat, expertly tying my wrists. My knees would bang if I could sit up. The smell of leather and gasoline sticks to my face.I search for Alexandre, look for Lucas. Between two bodies, I spot Lucas curled up, his hand groping his chest then his side; he coughs up some blood, but he raises his eyes to me. His pupils search for me as if to tell me to hold on, not to give up. He opens his mouth, tries to speak; his voice is barely a whisper.— Hang on, Lyra… don’t… then nothing, just a groan.The car door slams. The car starts. The speed jolts me, my breathing becomes a dull pain. Through the fogged window, I glimpse Alexandre’s silhouette, he is
Remember me naked Chapter 182 — The Kidnapping
LyraThe night unfurls its last threads of light when I suddenly feel the air change. Until now, the garden vibrated with muffled laughter, reassuring conversations, and soft music pushing away the shadows. Then a dull, metallic sound, a prelude to something bad: hurried footsteps on the lawn, low, hoarse voices, and that sharp crack that tears the evening from its sweetness.Everything rushes. Shadows emerge between the lanterns, black as ink stains. Hooded men, armed, appear without warning, breathless and precise. The first collective reaction is disbelief: we laugh, we think it’s a bad joke. Then the rifles are raised, the guns aimed, and the laughter dies in an instant.“Don't move!” shouts a muffled voice behind a mask. “On the ground, now! And you, don't make any sudden moves.”The guests collapse, chairs fall, glasses roll and shatter with a clatter. Screams, cries, whispered orders. I feel like the world is slowing down: the dress that envelops me, Alexandre's hand tightening
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