Chapter 42 - Run, Red, run...

Viviane

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I woke up to the suffocating scent of wax and smoke, the taste of cloth thick on my tongue. My head felt heavy, like it had been filled with lead, and I blinked against the flicker of dim candlelight bouncing off the walls.

Where the hell am I?

My arms ached, numb from being in the same place, and I realized I was tied to a chair. Both of my arms tied to both of the arms of the chair. Rough rope burned into my wrists, and my legs—also bound—felt like lead weights. Panic flared up like a match to gasoline, but I shoved it down. Breathe. Focus.

In front of me, there was a knife. Just sitting there.

A thin blade, placed right across my lap. The silver glinted under the soft, shaky light from the candles. And beside it, a note, messily scrawled in handwriting so jagged it looked like it had been carved into the paper:

“Free yourself and run, darling. I’ll savor every fucking second of hunting you down. Each scream. Every tear. All the steps you’ll regret.”

Ghost...