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“Oh, dear sweet Starling. It’s not about you. It was never about you.” He reaches for something on the tray and leans over, holding it under my nose.

I try to shake my head, but he moves with me. I hold my breath, but when he punches me in the stomach, I scream and suck in as much air as I can. My head spins from whatever he had me sniff. My pulse races, and my vision blurs. I feel him moving, but everything looks like it does when you spin around in circles.

A heavy weight presses down on my chest again, and I realize he’s sitting on me, making it hard for me to breathe. Panic claws at me, but he doesn’t move. “Please, stop,” I choke out.

“There, there. If you just hold still, this will all be over soon.” He holds my jaw tightly in place for a moment before pinching my top lip between his thumb and forefinger.

I can’t get enough air into my lungs. I know I’m going to pass out again, but I’m terrified to close my eyes, afraid I won’t wake up again.

A sharp pain in my lip makes me cry out, stealing the last of my breath. It feels like he’s pouring acid across my lips. I can’t… can’t focus. Can’t breathe.

He keeps tugging on my lip, the pain now constant as my brain tries to figure out what he’s doing. But in the end, it’s too much to handle, and I lose consciousness.

I don’t know how long I’m out this time. But when I come to, my lips are throbbing, and the fucking psycho is gathering up the items on his tray. He must sense that I’m awake because he looks at me and makes weird purring noises.

“Welcome back. Don’t try to speak. You’ll ruin your pretty face if you tear your stitches.”

Stitches? I try to open my mouth but can’t, and the full horror of what he’s done sinks in.

He’s sewn my mouth shut.

Tears run down my face as I bite my tongue to keep from screaming and ripping my mouth to shreds.

“There, there. The worst is over with for now.”

I glare at him, making him chuckle. The sound oddly familiar, even with his voice distorted.

“You’re bait, Starling. That’s your purpose in life: bait and food for predators. This”—he points to my mouth—“means you can’t warn him about what’s coming,” he says, and my blood runs cold.

Him? Oh, Jesus. Hudson. He wants to kill Hudson. He’s going to dangle the one thing in front of him that he can’t resist: me.

And when he comes for me—and he will—he’ll die.

Chapter Thirty-Two

Hudson

Irush into the hospital and ask for Abbot and Starling. They send me to Abbot’s room, but can’t find any information on my wife.

When I get there, inside, I find a boy around Abbot’s age sitting beside him while he sleeps.

He jumps up when he sees me. “Sir.”

“Who the fuck are you?”

“I’m Lewis, sir. I’m a friend of Abbot’s.”

“How did you know he was here?”

“A paramedic called me. I was the last person he messaged. I came straight here when they told me where they were taking him.”

I rub my hand down my face and walk over to the bed. Atlas stands in the doorway.

“I’m going to call Kenzo and see if he has anything.”

I nod and sit down beside Abbot. “They said he was in a car accident.” My voice comes out gruff, making the other boy wince.

“That’s what they told me, too.”