Celeste’s head throbbed while she awoke.
The room became darkish. Bloodless. Her palms were tied at her back. Metal chair. Concrete ground. It smelled like rust and worry.
“You’re wide awake.”
That voice. She knew it.
Marcus.
Her eyes blinked until the dim light took shape. He sat across from her, legs crossed, like this was a kind of recreation. Maybe it was.
“Where’s my mother?”
“Safe. For now.” He smiled that slow, dirty smile. “Depends on how this talk goes.”
Celeste pulled at the ropes, but they didn’t move. Her wrists already burned.
“What do you want?”
“What I’ve always wanted. What’s mine.” He stood and came closer. “You got to grow up with a name. A family. I got a cell and a number.”
“That’s not my fault.”
“No. But you’re gonna help me fix it.”
He pulled out his phon
