Page 171 of Captive Ruin

“Where’s my wife?”

“A moment while I check with security, please.”

I try the handle again while I wait. Definitely locked.

Anna comes back onto the line. “In your rooms, sir.”

“Override the lock, will you? And get me another keycard.”

“A moment, please.”

The handle clicks green and I cut the call, walking in. “Little Stray? Where are you?”

The living room is empty. Her bottle of wine has gone. She must be in the bedroom, taking a nap. But it’s only lunchtime. Has she really drunk so much already?

My irritation grows. That conversation we began on the plane is long overdue.

I pause outside the bedroom, composing myself so that at least I can be calm. I owe her that much. Then I open the door.

She’s lying on the bed with her eyes closed, peaceful and still, clothing unruffled. One hand rests awkwardly on the nightstand, her arm thrown wide in her sleep. She’s knocked the phone out of its cradle, and the insistent, repeated beep, beep of the off-hook tone fills the room. How drunk must she be to sleep through that?

“Amelia—” I begin, catching sight of the bottle of pills at the same moment. It’s on the carpet beside the bed, and the top is off. The world narrows to that image, yet it still takes a moment to register. Then my heartrate jumps so high it hammers in my chest, filling my ears with the rush of pounding blood.

“Amelia!” I shout her name. She must be asleep, she’s going to wake at any moment. She knocked the pills off, that’s all it is.

But I know it’s not; they haven’t spilled. There aren’t any pills on the carpet.

Cold floods me from the inside out, terror in its rawest form. The tang of metal fills my mouth; I’ve bitten something but I can’t feel the pain. I rush to her, my legs buckling, and I fall to the floor beside the bed, pulling her to my chest.

She’s so limp.

“Help!” The scream is torn from me, a sound I didn’t know I could make, desperation and anguish yet still not loud enough. “Someone help me!”

Her eyes flutter.

“Wake up, goddammit.” I slap her face. I promised I’d never slap her; I do now. “Amelia!” I yell at her, and slap her again. Her cheek reddens. “No… no. Please. Not you, too. God, please. Wake up. Wake up!”

Her eyes open, the lids droopy. “Van… Lukas,” she mumbles. Her lips curve into a pale mockery of her usual smile.

“Help me!” I cry at the door. Where the hell are Bastien’s security? “Hold on, Amelia. Hold on, Little Stray.” How much did she take? How many pills were left in that bottle?

“Not… holding on,” she breathes. “Escaping.”

Her eyes drift shut.

“No. No, no, no.” I’m sobbing, tears blurring my view of her. “Don’t you leave me, damn it. Don’t you fucking leave me like this. There is no escape, do you hear me? You’re mine, damn it. You’re mine…”

“Let me… die.”

“No!” I scream. “No, never! Nothing will take you from me. Don’t you understand? I love you, Amelia. I always have. There’s nothing I want but you.” She’s not responding. What can I say? Where is the help I need? “Don’t leave me, please. We’ll talk. I’ll fix this. Whatever it is… whatever you need me to be… whatever you want, goddammit!”

Footsteps pound in the corridor outside.

“In here!” I shout at them. “Get the doctor!”

Thank God, that’s who enters, Anna in his wake. She stops in the doorway, a hand covering her mouth. But I only care that the doctor is here.

“Out of the way, please,” he says, and I scramble back.