Page 92 of The Dark Obsession

Rafael doesn't slow down as he stares out his window. “They’re awake.” His soft voice sounds scared. One of his bloodied hands squeezes my leg.

The car pushes 80mph. The trees flit by, but not a single other car passes us; it must be getting late.

“Are you okay?” Rafael eyes me. “I’m so sorry. I was caught seconds after you disappeared.”

I squeeze his hand. “Don’t. We both knew the risks.”

“My brother called just as you left. He has Ben.” Rafael’s bloody cheeks rise into a pained smile.

My heart jumps into my throat, and my muscles relax for what feels like the first time today. “Oh, Raf.” I cry uncontrollably.

“He was in Dale’s basement. The police found him. They should be closing in on the farmhouse any moment now.” Rafael’s sparkling eyes overflow with tears.

I smile at him, and my cheeks ache as they lift.

Rafael returns my smile, as beautiful as ever—even bruised and bloody.

“Where is he now?” I’m already imagining our reunion.

“He’s with Adriel at the hospital. He’s fine, just minor injuries. Then they’ll be going into a safehouse. We can’t go back tonight.”

My heart sinks. “Why?”

“Adriel and Ben have explained everything to the police, but there’s still the chance they won’t capture Dale. We’ve got to stay at a hotel.”

I focus on Rafael’s shaking hand on my leg. “Okay.”

“Try to get some sleep, beautiful. We still have about an hour to drive.”

I check the time—9:30. My insides are still surging with adrenalin as I lean my head back on the headrest and close my eyes. A few seconds pass, and my eyes snap open. The car jolts to a stop. I stare out the window at the tall building we’ve parked in front of.

“Did you rest well?” Rafael asks, the whites of his eyes red. He stifles a yawn and exists the car, groaning in pain.

I follow his lead.

An old man in a white shirt rushes to us and scrutinises us. “Can I, er … help you?”

“Yeah, we need a room for the night. Sorry about our attire. We’ve just come from filming.” Rafael laughs sourly.

The man watches me hold my shirt together.

I smile. “These damn horror movies.” I laugh awkwardly.

Rafael moves around the car to grab a bag from the back seat and hands the key to the man. He takes my hand, and we head towards the large revolving door.

The reception is huge. Comfy cream-coloured sofas are dotted around, and the navy-blue walls go perfectly with the white marble flooring. I barely have a chance to look around when we arrive at the desk. I stand by Rafael’s side, smiling and laughing when necessary, even though each chuckle causes my stomach to tense against the stabbing pain.

“Again, I’m so sorry about our attire,” Rafael says politely.

The receptionist giggles childishly. “Not a problem, Mr Alcazar. Here is your keycard. Enjoy your stay.”

Rafael tugs my hand.

I follow behind him, fixated on not feeling the pain, not allowing my lips to open enough for my cries.

Rafael’s hand wraps around my waist, allowing me to lean on him. The lift door opens, and we enter. Rafael slots the keycard into a scanner, and a generic female voice announces, “This lift is going to floor ten.” The silent lift moves rapidly, music twinkling through the speakers. Rafael’s whole body is stiff, and he looks down at me several times before the doors open, and we enter a long hallway.

Our room is the first white door we come to on the left. Again, he scans the key. The door flings open automatically. Inside is another small hallway with three open doors. The first leads to a small but well-equipped bright kitchen. I move to the second room. A large double bed sits in the middle of an open white room. A TV, double the size of mine, is at the end of the bed. I ignore the third room and head for the bedroom. Another door is open at the side of the bedroom. A huge circular bath is in my view. The bathroom’s wall consists of only mirrors.

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