He Buried Me But I Painted My Own Resurrection novel Chapter 188

Throwing down those final words, he turned on his heel and stormed out without a backward glance.

He truly believed he had all the time in the world to slowly force her into submission.

What he didn't know was that not long after, he would receive the news of Sienna's death.

Time ticked by, and the night grew ever darker.

His car eventually parked by the river, where heavy winds hurled damp, moisture-laden air against him, plastering a few stray hairs messily against his forehead.

He pulled out his cigarette case, shook one loose, but had to strike his lighter several times before the flame finally caught.

The glowing orange embers flickered intermittently at his fingertips, casting a harsh glow across his impossibly tense jawline.

For some inexplicable reason, the unease pooling in his chest was growing suffocatingly intense.

He irritably crushed the cigarette out and checked his watch.

Eleven-fifty.

In exactly ten minutes, it would be a new day.

Sienna, what are you doing right now? Are you crying, or are you cursing my name?

Unbidden, the image of her crashing to the floor earlier forced its way into his mind—she had looked so gaunt, so incredibly fragile, as if a mere touch would shatter her into dust.

And the blood pouring from her forehead...

A sudden, inexplicable throb of pain lanced through Grant's heart.

He shook his head violently, desperately trying to evict the memories, convincing himself it was all just an act—a pitiful ploy to win his sympathy.

Just then, his phone rang out sharply.

The piercing ringtone felt exceptionally jarring in the dead silence of the car.

He glanced at the caller ID; it was an unknown local number.

Frowning heavily, he hit the answer button.

"Hello?"

On the other end of the line, Lucas's voice drifted through.

His tone possessed none of its usual gentleness, nor the explosive fury from earlier that day; instead, it was a terrifyingly suffocating, dead calm.

A calmness that instilled far more terror than any hysterical screaming ever could.

"Grant."

"She's dead."

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