ELIJAH'S POV
The message appeared on my phone screen like a knife between my ribs.
I am sending the blood stained rug to the police station. Let us hope your love for Imogen is strong enough to survive a murder investigation.
My hands started shaking. The phone slipped from my fingers and clattered onto the hardwood floor of my lawyer's office. The sound echoed in the empty room like a gunshot.
This couldn't be happening. Not again. Not when I was so close to getting Imogen back.
I picked up the phone with trembling fingers and read the message again. The words didn't change. Blood stained rug. Murder investigation. The two things that could destroy everything I'd built, everything I was fighting for.
My chest felt tight. Too tight. Like someone had wrapped steel cables around my lungs and was pulling them tighter with each breath. I loosened my tie but it didn't help. Nothing helped.
The rug. Jesus Christ, the rug.
