His Nanny Mate By Eve Above Story

Chapter 212

Chapter 212: The Golden Knife

Moana

One moment, I was in the interrogation room with the police officer sitting across from me.

“Ms. Fowler?” he asked, standing from his seat with a worried look on his face. “Are you alright?”

My eyes were wide and my hands were shaking. I was standing with my back against the wall, feeling as though I couldn’t get a full breath into my lungs. The room felt as though it was closing in on me, and I felt trapped inside like an animal caught in a net.

And then, suddenly, I felt my knees buckle under me. I fell to the ground, and then everything went dark with only Edrick being the very last thing on my mind.

…

in a dark room. In fact, it was pitch black… But when I held my hands up

voice felt thick and heavy. There was no echo, and

again. This time, after a few minutes of

familiar female voice said. I immediately recognized it

or see anything. It felt like an eternity, but also a split second at the same time. Was I sleeping? Was this just a strange dream? It felt too long and vivid to just be a regular dream… I felt perfectly conscious, not at all

No matter how hard I tried to stay focused and keep myself level-headed, I couldn’t stop seeing Ethan’s gun in front of my face. At one point, I started to hyperventilate. Yes; that had to be it. I hyperventilated and

passed, and I stayed in the black void. I moved around, or at least I felt like I was moving around, but nothing changed. There was

be dead, I thought to myself, then it was awful and lonely. The thought of being conscious with nothing but

sort of presence, at least. I couldn’t tell if I just made it up in my mind or if it was real, and if someone else was here with me. But when I started to see Michael’s face materializing in front of me, I wished that it was neither of those things. I would

view as though he was loading into this new instance, like a virtual reality. His neck, then his shoulders, his arms and his chest… Then, eventually, his

It was golden — even the blade itself was golden — with an ornate handle that had the head of a wolf on the end. He was holding it tightly

black void to a rainy cliff with trees on either side. I felt a gasp catch in my

see that he was closer now. The knife was raised, ready to stab me. When I turned around, the tip of the knife was nothing more than a mere centimeter

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