In the dream, he was imprisoned in some sealed-off place.
She couldn't tell where it was, nor could she hear any sounds, but she saw with terrifying clarity a group of faceless figures brutally interrogating him.
Her grandfather clenched his teeth, refusing to speak.
Terrified, she threw herself in front of him, trying to shield him—but it was futile.
She could only watch helplessly as those figures raised their whips and lashed at his frail body.
The sheer despair jolted her awake.
The dream felt too real—could it have actually happened?
If so, who were those people?
And what has become of her grandfather now?
Camilla didn't dare dwell on it any longer.
Her slender frame trembled faintly.
Sinclair took one look at her and knew the dream about grandpa Rodriguez couldn't have been anything good.
"Camilla, your grandfather will be fine," he said softly, pressing his lips together.
