The footsteps were slow… deliberate… carrying the weight of a man who believed the world belonged to him.
Diana stiffened beside me.
My jaw clenched so tightly the ropes dug deeper into my skin.
Then he stepped into the light.
My father. Victor Langley
Grey suit. Gold cufflinks. Calm eyes that had watched the world bleed without blinking.
"Son," he said with a faint smile, as if I were seated at a dinner table not tied to a chair.
I didn't look away.
"Where is she," I demanded, my voice raw, stripped of anything human.
He studied me like I was a misbehaving dog.
"So that's the first thing you care about? Not the driver who died. Not the men who risked their lives dragging your unconscious body back home."
His smile sharpened. "A girl."
My chest burned. "Sharon, where is she Victor."
He stopped in front of me, hands clasped behind his back.
"Ace… the car went off the cliff."
Air left my lungs in one violent rush.
He continued, cold and precise.
