BOOKSDRAMA Chapter 3
Anger flickered in Torin's eyes as he watched the harsh comments scroll past. The earlier detachment in his expression had completely vanished.
"She never owed me that rescue," he said, voice hardening. "I was her brother. Protecting her should have been my—" The words caught in his
throat, refusing to emerge.
Fenwick and Caellan stared, startled by this uncharacteristic display of emotion.
"Torin, remember what she did later," Caellan pressed urgently. "To you, to all of us, to Rowena."
A heavy sigh escaped Torin as memories flooded back. "You're right. Still, I'll seek a reduced sentence. Prison might change her."
*****
The memory stream continued its relentless revelation of the past. On the screen, the kidnapper loomed over Elysia, deliberately slowing his pace as
he approached. "Still hoping for rescue?" he sneered.
She lay exhausted on the asphalt, yet her thoughts remained fixed on protecting her brother. "Please, take me if you must, but leave my brother
alone."
His laughter cut like broken glass. "Keep dreaming, brat."
He seized her by the neck, lifting her tiny body high. She thrashed against his grip, finally sinking her teeth into his arm in desperation.
His howl of pain sent the scene spinning violently before darkness claimed it. The viewers collectively gasped as the visual feed cut to black, leaving
them with only audio - a testament to Elysia's semi-conscious state after the fall. Through the darkness, her enhanced hearing picked up every
sound.
"Shit... a fall from this height... she's done for. Better make a call." The kidnapper's voice was tight with panic.
A phone's dial tone pierced the darkness with perfect clarity.
[How does she have such insane hearing? Picking up phone calls at that distance?]
[She heard everything in the truck too.]
The accusations of manipulation hung heavy in the virtual space until a quiet "No" from Fenwick drew every eye in the studio.
"Her hearing was... exceptional," he continued, his voice softening with the memory. "Once at home, she told me about a neighbor quarreling with his
wife. Said she could hear a baby crying."
Fenwick drew a measured breath. "I called the police. They found the potential abuse victims—in a house half a mile away. I never told anyone but
our parents."
[That's impossible! I can barely hear someone thirty feet away.]
[So she saved two more people with this gift?]
Fenwick's fists clenched unconsciously. 'Yes,' he thought bitterly. 'She saved Torin and those strangers with that gift. Then used the same ability to
destroy me and Rowena.'
Seeing Fenwick's distant expression, Caellan delivered a sharp kick. "Don't let her fool you like she did Torin. Her suffering is nothing compared to
Rowena's."
"Why should this witch walk free while Rowena lies comatose?" he added venomously.
Displeasure and disdain contorted Fenwick's features as he was kicked. "Enough," he said. "I know exactly what kind of person she is. My pity has its
limits, and it certainly doesn't extend to her."
The sharp exchange in the studio was suddenly interrupted by a new voice from the past. A woman's shrill voice cut through their headphones. "What
are you doing? The target's still at the party!"
"Instead you grabbed Torin and his sister? At Torin's birthday celebration—are you trying to get caught?" The woman's voice rose with each word.
The chat erupted with realization.
[Who was the real target?]
[Caellan wasn't born yet. It must have been Fenwick.]
[Thank god Fenwick was spared! For once, I'm grateful to her.]
In the studio, Fenwick stared at the flood of supportive messages from his fans, each word landing like a physical blow. His certainties about Elysia,
carefully maintained over the years, began to crumble. His throat constricted painfully as a terrible realization dawned.
'If they hadn't taken the wrong child...' He forced the thought away. 'Pointless to dwell on ifs. Just her bad luck.'
Through their headphones, the kidnapper's voice returned, growling into his phone with growing frustration. "Blame the kid—she overheard us.
Luckily, I spotted that gaudy feather clip, or she'd have slipped away. Planned to knock her out and grab the other one, but her brother complicated
things."
The voice on the other end replied after three seconds of silence, "The boy works too. Any Drayton heir will do."
"He... got away. The girl rolled down an embankment," the kidnapper reported reluctantly. "When I shined my phone light, all I found was blood on the
rocks and grass. I think... she's gone."
The chat exploded in horror.
[That damn feather clip! Who put it on her?]
[How much blood did she lose? God...]
[I can't hate her right now. Save that for when we see her later crimes.]
Among the outraged viewers, Fenwick sat frozen in the studio, mouth slightly parted, throat desert-dry. The memory stream had unearthed a detail
he'd buried deep in his consciousness, something he hadn't allowed himself to think about for years.
Even the dismissive Caellan muttered, "What awful taste."
Stellan's questioning look prompted a hasty explanation from Caellan. "She wore that tacky thing to steal attention at Torin's party. Her vanity got him
kidnapped."
[Exactly! Already so manipulative.]
[She was four!]
[Evil shows early. Her attention-seeking got Torin hurt.]
The accusations in the chat continued to pile up until Fenwick could no longer stay silent. "No," he said, his voice emerging like rustling paper. "That
hair clip... I put it there."
He'd chosen it deliberately, knowing she hated fuzzy textures. She'd spent the whole day focused on their older brother, ignoring Fenwick.
'But she'd worn it without complaint, hadn't she?' The thought pierced through Fenwick's defenses like a blade.