Semua Bab Aretha Hawthorne: The Rise Of The Phoenix: Bab 81 - Bab 90

𝐀𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐚The flat feels too quiet, as though every cushion and lampshade is holding its breath, listening for the front door that never opens. Marcos’s cologne still lingers on my jumper—warm cedar threaded with pepper—and it claws at my lungs each time I inhale. I trace slow, useless laps around the coffee-table, phone clutched like a flotation device. Guilt sits in my chest like wet sand: heavy, cold, immovable.When Yemaya finally rings me at 10:17 p.m., according to the taunting blue digits, I jab accept on my phone screen before the second buzz.“Baaabe, please don’t kill me,” she pants. Behind her a DJ hammers out club-house bass and someone shrieks with champagne-fizzed delight. “Lord Agilolfings' twenty-fifth anniversary gala has gone full Shakespearean tragedy. The soprano’s lost her voice and is currently sobbing on a pile of caviar canapés, the ice sculpture melted into something that looks suspiciously X-rated, and I’m now playing the part of harp-wrangler. All in all,

𝐂𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐨𝐧The words hang in the air like smoke—thick, disorienting, and hard to breathe around.“Aretha’s gone missing,” I say again, but even to my own ears, it sounds surreal. Unreal.Marcos scoffs, tipping the gin bottle in disbelief. “No, no—what the hell are you talking about, mate? I literally saw her today at Yemaya’s. That's the reason for this drunk fest, remember? She was fine. Despite our argument and everything that happened afterwards, she was fine.” He leans forward, brow furrowed, alcohol-glazed eyes struggling to make sense of the dread washing over my face.Nathaniel’s narrowed gaze flits between us. “Explain, Cam. Properly.”I nod once, curtly. “I just got a message from the bodyguards I hired to watch over her. She left the apartment at 10:35 to grab something from the store down the road. The street CCTV captured her walking back out a few minutes later but then there's a glitch and a couple of minutes on the tape are missing before it continues on at past 11p

𝐀𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐚The first thing I register when I come to is that my head is throbbing so damn much, it feels like they're hammering it.A sickening fog clings to my mind, thick and slow, as if I’ve been pulled under water and can’t quite breach the surface. And it takes a moment for me to open my eyes, my eyelids fluttering open, heavy as bricks. The air is cold, sharp, and laced with the acrid stench of copper and something fouler—urine, I think. It makes my stomach churn in protest.I try to lift a hand to rub my aching temple, but I find that I'm unable to move it. Panic and confusion jolt through me like electricity and I glance down, my heart pounding. My wrists are bound in front of me with a thick zip tie, tight enough to bite into my skin. I’m seated on a metallic chair, my back stiff from the unforgiving surface.I finally glance around my surroundings. The room I'm in is bleak—bare concrete walls streaked with dark stains that suspiciously look like smudges of dried blood, but

𝐀𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐚“The wounds are healing nicely,” the kind nurse poking my thigh nods her head at my progress. It has been a week since Aren kidnaps me, stabs me, and shoots Nathaniel. Some days it feels like a nightmare, and other days it’s too real to cast aside.“Can I start bathing without covering them?”“I would advise you hold off on that enticing thought for another week. I want to watch it till then, so you’ll have to clean this area after you bathe.” She pulls off her gloves with a smile and tosses them in the bin. “One more week, and all of this will be over.”I smile back politely, tugging my skirt down to cover my thighs. “Thank you.” That’s the best I can manage for now.Marcos stands when the nurse draws back the curtains, handing me a cup of coffee and a doughnut.“I know you didn’t have breakfast this morning.”I nod, stuffing my face with the doughnut, knowing I’ll likely not eat anything else until night falls or I’m forced to leave the hospital by nurses who need to cl

𝐂𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐨𝐧Nathaniel drifts to sleep after the doctor comes to check on him, he is going to recover quickly and needs a lot of bed rest. He asks to be discharged, but the doctor tells him to give it a few more days so they could monitor his progress.He clutches the bag of chips to his chest, deep in his slumber and my heart hurts taking in the sight of the most important people in my life. Already aware of Nathaniel’s harrowing past and how much he hates to be reminded of it, let alone talk about it, it's safe to say that I was beyond shocked when he began opening up to Aretha, giving her a watered-down version of the real story but still willingly telling her about it nonetheless. And if that isn't enough to show how he unconsciously feels about the woman who'd slowly wormed her way into our lives over the past few months, then I don't know what will.But when I recall how he adamantly continued to blame himself for his twin sister's death in front of Aretha, it makes me frown.