My eyes widened.
“That sound,” I whispered.
He followed my gaze upward.
“She must be awake again,” he said.
My stomach turned violently.
“You need to see properly,” he added.
Before I could resist, Musa gripped my arm firmly.
His fingers felt like iron clamps against my skin.
They dragged me toward the front door.
I kicked and struggled, but my strength felt useless against their coordinated movements.
The house swallowed us in silence.
The marble floor felt cold under my bare feet.
They led me upstairs toward the bedroom.
Each step felt heavier than the last.
I smelled something unfamiliar in the air.
Not perfume.
Not cleaning products.
Something sterile.
Something medical.
When we entered the bedroom, the bed looked exactly as I had left it.
Perfect.
Neatly arranged.
Obinna released my arm and walked toward the side of the bed.
He pressed something beneath the frame.
