I rubbed my hand over my face, shaking my head as that whole conversation replayed in my mind.

Emory Scott hated me, but she hated nearly everyone. So, she was making me work for it. So what? I’d be disappointed if she didn’t. She didn’t respect Michael, Kai, or Damon, either. It shouldn’t hurt.

But it did.

I always liked her. I always looked for her.

And over the years, passing her in the halls and feeling her in the classroom next to me, she got hot as fuck in ways no one else seemed to notice but me.

God, she had a mouth on her. I loved her attitude and her anger, because I was always too warm and I needed the ice.

It made me smile.

But I also saw things no one else did. The cute way she’d trip over a sidewalk slab or walk straight into a mailbox, because her eyes were lost in the trees over her head instead of watching where she was going.

How she’d push her grandmother in her wheelchair down to the village, both of them smiling and eating ice cream together. Emmy would hold her hand the whole time they sat.

The way she worked so hard, all by herself, without anyone to keep her company on her creative projects around town.

There was so much there that people didn’t see. She shouldn’t be alone all the time.

But Damon was right. She’d never be on my arm. She’d never let her guard down.

I turned, going past her street, and straight to the village, stopping at the gazebo she had started building before the school year started. Some project she’d convinced the city to let her build in the park at the center of the square.

She seemed to be here working if she wasn’t at school or band practice. I stopped along the curb outside of Sticks, looking up into the park and the beams rising up toward the sky but no roof yet.

She wasn’t there.

It was Saturday. She’d probably been there all day, but I’d missed it.

Pulling back onto the street, I drove past the cathedral, about to head home, but just then, I saw her.

She pulled the hood of her hoodie over her head, her long brown hair spilling out as she gripped the bag over her chest.

I kept driving but kept glancing behind me, watching her.

Her glasses made her eyes hard to see, but she had them buried in her phone anyway.

Damon was in there two hours ago. Was she? How long had she been in there tonight?

I thought she was Jewish. If not, I was going to feel stupid for the Yom Kippur gift I left in her locker.

I continued driving, watching her disappear in my rearview mirror, and I wanted to go back to find her, but I knew she wouldn’t take a ride from me.

She wouldn’t take anything from me.

I was nothing, and she knew it, and in ten years, she’d be amazing, and I’d be nothing.

She would never need me.

Within minutes, I was descending the steps of the catacombs, hearing whispers below and knowing which room Damon liked best.

I leaned on the door frame, seeing him toss his shirt onto the floor before lifting his mouth off the girl he had laid on the table.

His eyes met mine, the other chick still in her clothes and straddling a stool in the corner.

Damon smiled, standing up straight. “Get your ass in here.”

Emory

Present

I popped my head up, my eyelids heavy with sleep and my head pounding.

White filled my gaze as I jerked my head left and right, realization settling in.

It wasn’t a dream. I was at Blackchurch.

Checking the door across the room, I saw it closed and the chair still fixed underneath the knob. I exhaled, pushing myself up from where I’d crouched in the corner to keep all angles in view.

I hadn’t meant to fall asleep. I looked around for a clock, but there was nothing.

How long had I slept? I rubbed my eyes, pulling open a curtain and seeing that it was still dark outside. The forest laid beyond the tree line, the great expanse nearly pitch black under the cloud-covered moon.

Would I still be alive if I were out there now?

Releasing the curtain, I eyed the two-way mirror to my right, wondering if they were watching me. Did all the rooms have those?

And why?

The floor above me creaked, and I shot my eyes up to the ceiling, the floorboards whining with someone’s weight.

Where the hell were we? Think, think. The foliage outside, the trees, the moss on the rocks, and the air, heavy with moisture… Maybe Canada?

And we couldn’t be as secluded as they thought. Checking out the fancy woodwork, ornate doors and fixtures, and the chandeliers I’d noticed in the house, I knew one thing for certain. Blackchurch wasn’t always a prison. It wasn’t functional as one.

Someone built it as a home, and a home this size was built for more than a family. It was built for entertaining. A place this size didn’t run without support from a local population—servants, craftsmen, farmers…

My stomach ached with hunger as I looked at the pasta Aydin Khadir had left me on the bench at the bottom of his bed. The sauce had settled, and the noodles had yellowed, less opaque, but my mouth still watered looking at it.

I’d refused to eat it on the chance it was drugged—which was an entirely reasonable concern, since I must’ve been drugged when I was first brought here, but… I’d also slept without incident, so they clearly weren’t waiting for me to be less on guard to attack.

This was his room, he’d said. He would’ve come back here to sleep if it was that time of night. Where was he?

Leaving the food behind, I twisted around, looking for the knife, and I grabbed it off the floor where I’d dropped it when I was sleeping. Taking it, I dashed into the bathroom, filled a glass of water, and downed a cup before wiping off my mouth and heading past his treadmill for the door.

I only hesitated a moment before pulling the chair away and slowly twisting.

The pulse in my neck pumped hard, even though I knew I wasn’t in any more danger outside this room than in. If they had wanted to get in, they would’ve. I only put the chair up to give myself a warning before they broke through.

But I needed food not made by someone else, and I needed a better look at my surroundings.

Peering into the hall, I glanced left and right, half expecting to see a guard posted at my door, but the night outside the windows around the foyer darkened the floors and walls, the beautiful glow of the glass chandelier the only thing lighting the empty second floor.

There was no one.

That was weird. Were they that confident I wouldn’t try to run again?

I looked right, scanning the wall and seeing the crack in the paneling. Doing one more sweep to make sure I was alone, I stepped out into the hall and dug my nails into the crack, trying to pry the panel away.

I knew it opened. Maybe someone hadn’t been watching me in that mirror, but I knew the room was here, dammit.

After it didn’t give, I planted both hands on the panel and pushed instead, hearing the springs snap and watching as the door immediately opened.

My heart skipped a beat, and I almost smiled.

I swung the door wide and looked inside the small room, seeing a chair sitting on a concrete floor, surrounded by concrete walls. I stepped inside and walked to the glass, turning to look into Aydin’s room, the view spanning the entire width.

I shook my head. Unbelievable. Was Will here hours ago? Watching me?