Chapter 94
They rifled through the hotel for what felt like an eternity, but there was no sign of Marco anywhere. Clara’s voice trembled with concern. “What if it’s serious? What if he’s been rushed to the hospital?”
“Don’t panic just yet,” he reassured her, retrieving his phone to call Marco. But try as he might, the call wouldn’t go through.
Fearing his phone was the issue, Anders handed Marco’s number to Clara to try her luck. No dice. Same result.
That was when he noticed the landline cord snipped clean through. The cell signal jammed, and the phone line was cut.
A chill ran down Anders‘ spine. He bolted to the door, only to find it locked tight, unyielding to his attempts. It hit him like a ton of bricks – they’d been played.
The whole setup was a ruse to frame him and Clara and make it seem like they were together.
As the realization dawned, he swung around to gauge Clara’s reaction. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes glazed with a desire he’d never seen before.
At
tightness seized Anders‘ chest. “Clara!” he exclaimed.
Her voice was a soft whisper, her body seemingly drained of strength. “Anders, I’m burning up.” With those words, she collapsed onto the couch.
Years of detective work kicked in. Anders knew she was drugged. Someone had swapped out her antidepressants.
His skin prickled with dread. If his hunch was right, they’d been targets for some time.
“Clara, we’ve been set up. The door’s locked, the phones are out, and you’ve been
drugged,” he explained with urgency.
Clara recoiled at the news. “Anders, I need a cold shower,” she insisted, her voice shaking.
“But you’re terrified of water.”
“I can’t help it. If I don’t, I don’t know what I’ll do next.”
He was careful not to fill the tub too much, wary of triggering her phobia. Still, her fear was overwhelming. She trembled and babbled incoherently.
If they continued, the drug might wear off, but Clara could lose her sanity. He quickly wrapped a robe around her.
“Clara, we’ve got to get out of here. You’ll go mad if we stay,” he said.
1/2
Anders led her to the bed. The drug’s influence brought back intimate memories of her and lan his touch, his kisses, the sweet nothings he’d whisper. Each recollection was like poison, fueling her obsession.
Unable to resist, she murmured, “lan, it hurts… help me.”
Anders, pressing a cold cloth to her face, tensed at her plea, his veins bulging with the strain. The ache in his heart was almost too much to bear.
Just how deeply did she love lan? Even now, it was lan she desired and refused to let go of. She wouldn’t accept Anders‘ aid even if it meant enduring agony.
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