88
CONNOR
I was on my knees beside the bed, my eyes closed tightly. I didn’t know how much more I could take. The beatings were more intense and more frequent with each passing day. I wanted to die. I wanted it to be over. I endured only because I knew when they finally allowed me to die, it would mean they had found Lynne and my son.
I bore the pain and humiliation believing that in doing so, I was protecting my family.
“Now you begin to understand.”
I looked up. There was a woman standing beside me—beautiful, with long, brilliant red hair and eyes that gleamed like emeralds. She looked so familiar—at first, I thought I was looking at my mother, but I quickly realized it was not Anne.
“I do know you,” I said slowly.
“Yes,” she said in a soft, melodious voice. “I’ve been with you al
