Just the other day he promised he would leave his mark on my skin—sear his words of love into my flesh so I'd never be ashamed of my scars again. Just the other day we planned a future—one far, far away from all the chaos of the city. Far from vengeance and greed. A future in which we'd be free.

Just the two of us.

Free...

"Lulu!"

I reach the door of the salon, wrench it open, and come face to face with the doctor and a couple of nurses.

"You can't be out of bed," the doctor says, instructing the nurses to take me back.

I shake my head, evading them. I'm not in control of my limbs at this point—my desperation is. "I need to see my husband," I mumble as I wobble down the corridor.

One of the nurses catches my right arm, trying to hold me back without hurting me.

"You need to go back, Mrs. Archibald. You'll hurt yourself."

"No," I spit out, and with a force I didn't know I was capable of, I dislodge her hand from my arm, continuing forward. "Just tell me where my husband is. I need to see my husband."

"He's dead, Lulu... You have to believe me. I wouldn't lie to you," Noelle calls from behind.

"No. I won't believe that until I see him. Take me to my husband, please."

"Lulu..."

"Mrs. Archibald, I'm afraid that won't be possible," the other nurse intervenes just as I spot from the corner of my eye a couple of security guards heading my way. "You've been asleep for a week. Someone had to decide what to do with his body, and his family decided they would cremate him."

"What?" I stop, pivoting to look at her. "What family? I am his family." I point to myself. Panic rises in my chest, and my vision starts to swim.

"Since you could not make that decision, the next of kin was consulted. I can find out who it was for you..."

"Who was it?" I turn to Noelle, walking around her in a circle, a harsh clamor laying siege over my mind.

She gives me an apologetic look. She knows enough of Nikki's family to realize why this should have never happened.

"His aunt. Ophelia."

I swallow hard, pressing my lips together.

"Why? Why would she cremate him?"

"She said it was what he would have wanted, and no one objected to it."

I close my eyes for a moment, stepping back until my back hits the wall. Even that small impact makes me reel in pain.

"He can't be dead," I whisper, anguish lacing my voice.

"I'm so sorry, Luce..."

I don't answer. I can no longer answer. My body moves at some point, either on its own or being led by others.

I'm put to bed.

There's a dull prick of a needle as an IV is inserted in my arm.

I stare at the ceiling. Numb.