Petty’s eyes flicked to the name etched into the tombstone.
Melissa.
A black slab, cold and polished, held a photo in its center. The girl in the picture had pale skin and soft, delicate features. There was a gentle warmth in her eyes, and she smiled straight at the camera, looking alive and hopeful.
Petty was sure she’d never seen this girl before. Melissa… Who was she?
She hugged herself, teeth chattering so hard it hurt, scanning the bleak landscape for any sign of help or escape. All she saw were bare, twisted trees and the sheer drop of a cliff. The wind howled, making the air feel haunted, almost as if someone was crying nearby. And there was just this single, lonely grave.
This place wasn’t a cemetery.
It had to be miles from Cabinda, tucked away in these deserted hills.
Petty remembered being grabbed in broad daylight, maybe two in the afternoon. Now, here she was, surrounded by nothing but gray sky and creeping dusk. What did this guy want with her?
“Come here.”
The man’s voice snapped her out of her thoughts. He grabbed her arm and suddenly kicked the back of her knee. Petty had been crouching, but his kick forced her down hard, both knees smashing into the frozen ground.
Pain shot up her legs, sharp and deep. She gasped, struggling to breathe through the cold. “Who are you? What do you want from me?”
This wasn’t about money. She could feel it.
The man didn’t answer. He set his black backpack down with care, unzipped it, and pulled out a small cake, sky blue and perfectly decorated with fondant. It looked so out of place here.
He placed the cake in front of the tombstone, knelt beside it, and fished a lighter from his coat.
The wind was relentless. He kept flicking the lighter, but every time a tiny flame appeared, the wind snuffed it out. At first, he seemed determined, but soon, frustration and sadness twisted his face. His hands trembled as he finally hurled the lighter away, breaking down in tears.
It landed right by Petty’s leg.
He covered his face, sobbing.
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