Noah.
That bastard's name is Vincent.
The name echoed over and over inside my head, refusing to disappear no matter how hard I tried to push it aside.
For some strange reason, it refused to leave my mind.
It wasn't just because of the man standing in this room.
There was something else.
Something about that name felt disturbingly familiar.
Why?
Why did it sound so familiar?
I frowned beneath the bed, my brows knitting together as I tried to sort through the countless memories buried inside my mind despite the uncomfortable position I was forced to remain in.
The space beneath the bed was far too cramped to think comfortably, yet my thoughts stubbornly circled around that single name.
I'm sure I've heard that name somewhere before.
I just couldn't remember where.
The harder I searched my memory, the more elusive the answer became. It was like trying to grasp smoke with my bare hands.
