Chapter 768

The rooftop wind whipped around Lena like it was trying to slice her open, stinging every inch of her exposed skin. The blindfold over her eyes was tight, her hands and feet bound.

“Where am I?” she croaked, her voice shaky, barely louder than the howling gusts.

Her head felt foggy—drugged, obviously. But who’d done it? And why? The height alone, with the wind howling this loud, told her she was up high. Like, skyscraper high.

Silence. Not even a whisper back. She wasn’t sure what was worse—the idea of being totally alone or that someone might actually be lurking out there.

Then—clang! A beer can hit something nearby, the sound sharp enough to make her flinch.

“Who’s there?” she demanded, twisting toward the sound. “What do you want?”

No reply. Just footsteps. Slow. Uneven. Each one louder, closer.

Her pulse hammered as fear took over, her body jerking away from the sound, though she had nowhere to go.

“If you move any farther, you’ll fall right off,” a man drawled, his voice low, dripping with mockery.

Lena froze. Her fingers scrambled over the surface beneath her—a ledge, smooth and narrow. The realization hit like a punch to the gut. She was on a rooftop.

Instinct screamed at her to move, but fear locked her in place. One wrong shift, and she was toast.

Swallowing hard, she steadied her voice. “Who are you? Why’d you bring me here?”

The man let out a dry laugh. “Why?”

Lena’s brow furrowed. That voice—it tugged at something buried in her memory. She knew it, but from where? Her mind spun, scrambling to place him, when his voice cut through the wind again.

“You killed my wife and baby. That’s why.”

The words hit like a gut punch. Lena’s breath caught as the pieces fell into place. It was him—the grieving husband, Mr. Baxter. She remembered his devastated face, the family’s raw pain after the tragedy. The hospital had assured them the case was under review, and slowly, they seemed to calm down, or so she’d thought. She never imagined their grief could morph into this.

She inhaled deeply, trying to steady herself. There was no use rehashing the hospital’s explanations. Words wouldn’t fix this, and excuses would only light the fuse.

“Mr. Baxter, right?” she said carefully, keeping her voice calm. “You’re here because of your wife and child. This is about them, isn’t it?”

“Revenge?” His bitter laugh cracked, laced with pain. “What good would that do? They’re gone. You people ruined me!”

His rage radiated like a storm on the verge of exploding. Lena could feel it, raw and devastating. She knew better than to reason with him—it wouldn’t work. If there was any chance to reach him, it was through compassion.

“You’re right,” she said softly. “Even if you hurt me, it won’t bring them back.”

“AHHHH!” Mr. Baxter’s scream ripped through the air, wild and agonized.

Lena’s chest tightened. She stayed perfectly still, too afraid to risk even a breath. One wrong move, and he might snap and throw her off the rooftop.