The Price

Percival got back at ten in the morning, his mind heavy with worry about Eulalia. He didn't dare lock her up for too long, haunted by the memory of what had happened last time.

Once home, he played out various scenes in his head: Eulalia tearfully apologizing, or maybe still stubbornly refusing to admit she was wrong. But what he found instead was a nightmare he hadn't even considered—a floor splattered with blood and no sign of Eulalia anywhere.

A strange panic seized him, his heart feeling like it was missing a piece. It was like losing a favorite childhood toy and never finding it again.

The villa was eerily silent. He shouted Eulalia's name, his voice echoing through the empty rooms, answered only by silence.

He stepped over shattered glass on the balcony, bending down to remove the blood-stained handcuffs still attached to the railing. They felt rusty, like old iron.

When had Eulalia disappeared? There were no security cameras in the villa. The quickest way to find her would be t