Page 83 of Beneath the Thorned Crown

“Stop it,” I whisper again.

Samuel watches me for a long, agonizing moment, his eyes narrowing as he reads the hesitation in my gaze. His smirk widens, like he’s won. Like the seed of doubt has taken root, and now, it’s growing inside of me, eating away at everything I thought I knew.

Before I can react, I feel a sudden sting at the side of my neck—sharp, quick, like a needle breaking the skin. My head spins, a wave of dizziness sweeping over me, and my knees buckle beneath me.

The world tilts sideways. My vision blurs, and I gasp for air that feels suddenly thick. My body goes numb, heavy and unresponsive. My pulse slows to a crawl, my thoughts becoming fragmented, incoherent. I can’t fight it.

Samuel’s voice drifts toward me, distant and distorted, like I’m underwater.

“Don’t worry, cariño,” he murmurs, his tone soft, almost soothing in its cruelty. “When you wake up, we’ll have plenty of time to get to know each other.”

And then—darkness. Complete, all-consuming darkness.

Chapter 22 - Dominic

The weight of the night presses heavily on me as I pull up outside Isabella’s apartment. My chest feels tight with anxiety. I can’t shake the feeling that something is terribly wrong. It gnaws at me like a persistent itch I can’t scratch, a sensation that sinks deep in my gut.

I have never been here, yet the apartment feels familiar. I can almost see Isabella sitting on the couch and singing to herself. But someone doesn’t feel right. I can’t put my finger on it, but the dread is insufferable, like the air itself is thick with unease. I’m on edge. I tell myself it’s nothing—just nerves, nothing more—but the pit in my stomach tells me otherwise.

I get out of the car, my boots hitting the pavement with force, and walk toward the door. Each step feels heavier than the last. I reach the door and knock, my knuckles rapping against it firmly.

“Isabella,” I call out softly, half-expecting her to answer right away. But the silence that follows feels oppressive. There’s no response. Not even the sound of her footsteps.

I knock again, harder this time, my mind racing. Why isn’t she answering? Maybe she’s just asleep, I tell myself, but the thought doesn’t calm me. The way my heartbeat picks up, says otherwise.

I push the door open, a sense of urgency creeping up my spine.

“Isabella?” I say her name louder now, almost hoping she’ll respond, but as soon as the door swings fully open, I know something is wrong.

The apartment is eerily still. The lights are on, the small lamp beside the couch casting a warm glow, but it feels like a stage set for a play that’s already ended. Everything is in place. Too in place.

I step inside cautiously, my eyes scanning the room. I close the door behind me quietly, the click of it sending a jarring echo through the empty apartment. It feels final, like a door that’s been shut for good.

Isabella’s not here.

My pulse spikes.

I walk through the apartment, my footsteps echoing loudly. I touch nothing but feel everything. My instincts are screaming at me now. Something isn’t right. I don’t know what it is, but I can feel it in the pit of my stomach.

Where the hell is she?

You let her go. You don’t even deserve to be here.

A voice in my head reminds me of what I did. But I ignore it. No matter what, I need to find Isabella.

The first thing I do is pull out my phone, dialing her number. The ringing fills the silence, but she doesn’t answer.

I don’t bother leaving a message. Instead, I end the call, my mind running wild with possibilities. Panic creeps up on me, but I suppress it. I have to think.

I turn around to look at her paintings once again, hoping for a clue, anything that might give me a sense of direction. But I see nothing—nothing to explain where she could have gone.

I walk to the window, the chill of the glass cold under my fingertips, and I look out at the night, the city lights twinkling like distant stars. I should have been with her tonight. Kept her close, kept her safe.

My mind is racing. I have no time to waste. I need to find her.

Before I can react further, my phone rings again. It’s Charles.

I answer immediately, urgency creeping into my voice.

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