After He Left Me to Burn, I Shot Him

Chapter 8 A Figure in White

Consciousness crept back slowly. Vanessa tried to move her arms and felt sharp pins and needles shoot through her skin. She was lying on the cold floor.

When she breathed in, she caught a faint fishy smell. It hit her immediately—she'd been kidn*pped.

And that smell... it was exactly the same as the last time, ten years ago.

A man's voice cut through the fog—middle-aged, vaguely familiar. "You really think Watson will pick you? Don't push your luck. This could backfire badly."

Vanessa's thoughts scattered.

Amber laughed, brushing it off. "Watson's completely wrapped around my finger. I snap my fingers, and he comes running, wagging his tail like a trained dog."

Vanessa's fingers moved slightly, activating the recorder hidden in her pocket.

She wanted to see the look on Watson's face—cool, composed Mr. Dayes—when he found out the sweet girl he worshipped thought of him as just a dog.

"I was going to let Vanessa watch while she lost everything," Amber went on. "But she's like her father. Stubborn, unbending. The kind you can't break, only bury."

Vanessa's heart slammed against her ribs.

'My father's death... I've been right.'

She kept her eyes squeezed shut, pretending to be unconscious, forcing herself to stay still. She needed to hear more.

Then the man's voice came again, urgent this time. "Get her in the tank. Now. Watson's here—how the hell did he move so fast?"

Vanessa's mind snapped into focus. She barely had time to shove the recorder deeper into her pocket before hands grabbed her, hauled her up, and tossed her into a tank.

She hit the surface with a splash. The water was already up to her chin.

Footsteps pounded away—then stopped. The door slammed open.

Watson burst in.

His hair—usually perfect—was plastered messily to his forehead. His suit was rumpled, tie undone, hanging loose around his collar.

Vanessa had never seen him like this, completely wrecked.

He was still gasping for air when his eyes landed on Vanessa and Amber—trapped in the tanks, the water already rising.

Amber and the man hadn't even finished talking before Watson showed up. He must have realized they were missing and tracked them down at full speed.

Their ankles were chained to the base of specially reinforced glass, making it impossible to break free by brute force.

The water kept climbing, fast. It was already past their lips. There was only time to save one.

Watson didn't hesitate. He ran for Amber's tank.

"Hold on, Vanessa!" he shouted. "I'll get Amber out, then I'll come back for you!"

The second his hands touched the rim, electricity slammed through him.

They'd rigged the tanks.

But Watson didn't stop. His palms sizzled against the metal, flesh burning—but he gripped tighter, hauled himself over the edge, and dove under to unlock Amber's chain.

By the time he got her out and lifted her from the water, the level in Vanessa's tank had reached her nose.

Watson set Amber down and started for Vanessa—ignoring Amber's grab at his sleeve for the first time.

But before he reached the tank, Amber crumpled to the floor behind him.

He hesitated for only a second before turning back, scooping her up, and rushing outside.

"Wait for me, Vannie," he called back. "I'll get her to the hospital. Then I'll come back for you."

After all these years, he once again affectionately called her by her childhood nickname.

But the water was already filling her ears. She couldn't hear him anymore. She could only watch him go.

The water slipped over her head. Her tears disappeared into it. Maybe it was because she didn't love him anymore; this time, it didn't hurt.

She just felt a flicker of regret. She hadn't finished investigating Travis' death, hadn't gotten justice for him.

Her lungs burned, oxygen running out. The weight of the water pressed in, dark and heavy.

Right before everything went dark, she saw someone—a figure in white—running toward her.

The splash of diving echoed.