Reborn In a Murderer’s Embrace

The air felt heavy with tension, a prelude to trouble on the horizon.

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“Get in the car,” Eric called out, his arrival marking the time for us to leave.

Carl, the overseer of our grim procession to the funeral, couldn’t resist a jab before we departed. “Foebe, as I recall, a touch from your back in school was cheaper than a diner burger. What’s your price now?”

My grip tightened around Colin’s hand. Henry likely sent this man to provoke us, knowing full well the media vultures were circling.

“Take the lead,” Colin instructed with an indifferent tone, motioning Eric to drive ahead.

Carl’s car trailed us closely.

Eric maneuvered the car with haste, prompting Carl to keep up the chase.

“Take the back roads,” Colin ordered, his voice low and steady.

I knew what Colin was plotting and wanted to intervene, but the icy resolve in his eyes deterred me.

“Brake now.”

Colin’s command was perfectly timed, and Eric slammed the brakes.

Carl, caught off guard, swerved desperately, his car crashing against the guardrail.

Secluded under an overpass, with no cameras or followers in sight, we were alone.

Colin glanced at me before covering my eyes with his hand. “Don’t look. Count to one hundred.”

My hands clenched nervously.

Colin stepped out of the car, heading towards the wreckage.

Carl, sitting shotgun, was bloodied from the impact.

With brute strength, Colin wrenched open the twisted car door and dragged Carl out.

Initially, Carl managed a bloodied smirk. “An idiot and a slut… a perfect match.”

But his smile quickly faded as he encountered a side of Colin he’d never seen before.

“Mmph!” Colin knew just where to strike to silence him, hitting Carl’s throat before pummeling his face with ruthless punches.

Finally, he stomped on the wrist that had dared to touch me.

Panic set in, and I hurried of the car. Just as I feared… Carl’s cohort was secretly recording everything.

This was Henry’s true intent: to incite Colin, capture his violent outburst, and exploit it.

“Colin!” I ran to intervene, eyeing the man in the car with a cold gaze.

Terrified, he fumbled with the locks, but I was quicker.

I yanked the door open, reaching for the phone.

Colin shielded me from behind, pulled the man out, and pinned him down. “Hand it over.”

The man’s voice trembled, “It’s… it’s already sent.”

The video had been dispatched to Henry.

Sit back

Colin’s eyes darkened, his expression unreadable as he led me back to

ur car.

Eric, accustomed to such incidents, hadn’t even exited the vehicle. “Someone will handle this, Sir.”

Without a word, Colin handed me a wet wipe/“Phoebe… my hand hurts.”

My fingers trembled as I cleaned the blood from the back of his hand. “Henry will use the video against us…”

Colin changed the subject. “Phoebe…”

He pulled me into his embrace, his voice colder than I’d ever heard. “I won’t allow… anyone to touch you.”

I could feel the fury within him. If I hadn’t intervened, would he have killed?

“Henry will exploit this. If he calls the cops, even if he’s not your guardian, he could have you committed.” My voice shook as I spoke. “Let’s not go… skip the funeral. I’ll take you away.”

Let’s run.

All I could think about was to flee with him, to get as far away as possible.

10:42

“Phoebe… we’ve run before, but we can’t escape,” Colin’s grip tightened as he spoke words that sent shivers down my spine.

“They are vile… why can’t we just kill them?” His voice began to shake, too.

Past traumas seemed to torment him. And that past, it must have been something we shared.

He said we’d run before. Had we fled in the memories I’d forgotten?

“When did we… try to run?” I asked nervously, knowing Colin wouldn’t deceive me.

“Henry’s been dealing in the shadows of Sea City for years. Running… was always our most foolish option,” he dodged my question.

I realized then, it was a chapter of agony and darkness.

My amnesia, the reasons behind it, perhaps even my ‘death,‘ might all be tied to this failed ‘escape.

We must have tried, resisted, but to no avail.

T

“Instead of fleeing, let’s change the game,” Colin’s voice was a low growl, his eyes unreadable.

My heart clenched at his words. “Change the game?”

Colin glanced at Eric, who nodded in understanding.

“No matter what happens, don’t worry about me,” Colin’s hands cradled my face. “Whatever I do, I have a plan.”

My heartbeat quickened, aware of the storm ahead, yet Colin’s assurance brought a semblance of calm.

“Phoebe, trust me, those who wish us dead won’t get away. Nor will the one who took you from me. I’ll find them, I promise,” Colin’s voice trembled, tears falling onto my hands.

I realized then, throughout my years of lost memory, Colin had been fighting this battle alone.

I grasped his hands, my voice hoarse. “Colin, you’re not alone anymore. I’m here. I’ve returned.” NôvelDrama.Org © content.

Even without my full memory.

But my heart and instincts told me to believe in Colin’s innocence. We were fighting against the injustices of fate. And we deserved to

win.

Colin’s body shook more violently, a rare vulnerability shown only to me.

“I’m not… alone,” he whispered. “I know, you’re all with us.”

He spoke of ‘us.‘

Who else did ‘us‘ include?

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Colin and I were wrapped in secrets, including those of Foebe Larson, not yet fully unveiled. The ‘diary‘ I found too conveniently placed, as if by someone’s design.

Was everything I saw meant for my eyes?

Having brushed with death, trust didn’t come easily anymore.

The Langley family funeral was a solemn affair, with Brendan’s body still resting in its casket, awaiting Caleb’s approval before any further arrangements could be made. The cremation and burial processes were strict, and nobody wanted to cross any lines without Caleb’s say–so.

Stella and Robin were among the early arrivals, dressed in sharp suits.

“Our condolences,” Stella and Robin approached, placing their flower by the casket.

Henry, seated among the elders, sipped his water with an air of calm about him, as if the media frenzy outside the chapel walls couldn’t touch him here in this quiet sanctuary.

Dexter also made an appearance, accompanied by Melody. It was hard not to notice how Melody managed to keep Dexter by her side wherever he went.

Melody, her face half–hidden by a mask, placed her flower down and shot me a venomous look, which I chose to ignore as I bowed respectfully with Caleb.

Dexter started to say something to me but thought better of it given the setting, settling instead for a simple, “Sorry for your loss.” The solemn atmosphere was abruptly shattered by a loud, accusatory voice. “Foebe Larson! How dare you hide away in this lavish lifestyle, I’ve been trying to reach you!” The aggressor, clearly there to provoke, pointed at me and launched into a tirade. Henry frowned, pretending to be concerned, “Remove this person, this is a funeral. We will have no scenes here.”

But I knew this was Henry’s doing, a ploy to unsettle Caleb further, hoping to capture a violent outburst on video to justify committing Caleb to a psychiatric facility.

10:42

“Feeling guilty, Foebe?” the man continued to bellow, trying to draw the attention of the reporters outside. “We’ve shared more than a few nights together, and here, look at these disgraceful photos you sent me. Don’t you want to see?”

I felt a chill, knowing full well that since my return, Colin was the only man I’d been with, evidenced by the blood–stained sheets that morning.

The idea that a woman’s virtue could be judged by such standards was abhorrent to me, and Colin’s cold gaze told me he was barely holding back his fury.

“Colin, stay right here!” I commanded as he moved to confront the man, his eyes filled with a mix of rage and hurt. “Phoebe…I want to tear his mouth cff.”

I took a deep breath, knowing he wasn’t joking. “Stay here!”

Colin clenched his fists, shaking with the effort of holding back.

Henry seemed taken aback by my control over Colin, whom he considered a madman. He glanced at Damian, who had arrived unnoticed during the commotion.

Damian whispered something to Henry, a sly smile on his lips. I caught something about “taming the beast,” hinting that Colin, like a dangerous but beautiful creature, needed to be subdued but never broken.

As Damian spoke, I felt a shiver run down my spine, his words echoing a sinister intent.

Suddenly, Stella sprang into action, her training in boxing evident as she tackled the instigator with a fierce kick. “How dare you say such things at a funeral? Were you paid to do this or is your head just filled with garbage?”

Standing on the chapel steps, I gave Stella a thumbs–up, admiring her bravery. It seemed that since my ordeal, Stella had become a warrior in her own right, filled with regret for not being able to protect her best friend.