Reborn In a Murderer’s Embrace

“Phoebe, don’t lie to me anymore…” Colin clung to me, his grip tight as if he feared I’d vanish into thin air.

I could sense the trauma etched deep within him, like scars of a war long past. I had to tread lightly, coaxing him into a sense of security, hoping he’d come to rely on me and then spill the truth about everything he knew concerning the serial murderer at large.

Colin was on guard, repeating his plea for honesty. I knew he hadn’t fully let me in.

If I pressed him now, he’d clam up for sure.

“Time for bed,” I said as I ushered Colln Into the bedroom, making sure he took his medicine before I tended to the bandages on his hands and feet.

Peeling back the layers of gauze, the blood–soaked wounds revealed themselves in stark, harrowing detail.

I winced, feeling a knot of tension in my back. These injuries looked painful enough to make anyone’s stomach churn.

“How did this happen?” I asked gently, dabbing at his wounds with saline solution. “From tomorrow on, you’re in a wheelchair – no walking, got it?”

Colin met my gaze and nodded obediently. When he wasn’t in the throes of his demons, he was as docile as a big, loyal dog. But when those demons came out to play, even I found myself afraid.

“They… they wouldn’t let me escape, made,me walk on hot coals…” Colin’s voice was a hoarse whisper, stripped of emotion yet filled with a bone–chilling coldness.

He wasn’t expressing fear or terror, but the icy hint of his words could freeze you to the core.

I knew ‘they‘ meant Samuel and Brendan. To keep Colin from running, to ensure he’d produce an heir for the Langley legacy, they’d stooped to unspeakable cruelty.

“That’s vile,” I muttered, struggling to find the words to describe Samuel’s malevolence and the

ness within his soul.

“Does it hurt?” I asked softly as I continued to clean his wounds, looking up into his eyes. Exclusive content © by Nô(v)el/Dr/ama.Org.

It was as if he had no nerves left for pain. How could he not feel it?

Colin shook his head, his expression numb.

It wasn’t that he couldn’t feel; he’d just grown numb to it all.

After taking care of his feet, I moved on to his hands.

The Langley family thought that by restraining his limbs, they could contain him. But in doing so, they were destroying a genius.

16:15

“Phoebe…” Colin’s gaze locked onto mine as he called out my name.

“Yes?” I packed away the first aid kit, meeting his eyes.

“Do you wish him dead?” His question was serious, his eyes intense.

“Huh?” I was baffled. “Who?”

“Dexter,” Colin stated the name as if it were a verdict.

I stared back at Colin, shocked, unable to process his words immediately.

Did I wish him dead?

I remembered that this wasn’t the first time Colin had asked me about this. Last time, I thought he was joking, but this time, I could feel the gravity of his intent.

“I don’t wish for his death. I want him to live, to live with the agony of guilt, remorse, and torment every single day.” I said, shaking my head at Colin. “Now sleep. You’ve still got a fever.”

Colin obediently tried to settle on the floor.

“In the bed!” I insisted, nudging him onto the mattress and tucking him in.

He watched me for a moment before suddenly pulling me into his embrace, flipping me beneath

him.

“What are you doing?” I asked, my voice a mix of fear and wariness as his eyes seemed to devour me.

“Phoebe…” He called my name again.

I could never tell if he was calling for me or for Foebe.

But those eyes, so deep and captivating, seemed to silently declare his love, a love so profound it was almost palpable.