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Chapters (70)
  1. Title Page
  2. Contents
  3. Copyright
  4. Praise for Caroline Mitchell
  5. Also by Caroline Mitchell
  6. Dedication
  7. Epigraph
  8. Prologue
  9. 1
  10. 2
  11. 3
  12. 4
  13. 5
  14. 6
  15. 7
  16. 8
  17. 9
  18. 10
  19. 11
  20. 12
  21. 13
  22. 14
  23. 15
  24. 16
  25. 17
  26. 18
  27. 19
  28. 20
  29. 21
  30. 22
  31. 23
  32. 24
  33. 25
  34. 26
  35. 27
  36. 28
  37. 29
  38. 30
  39. 31
  40. 32
  41. 33
  42. 34
  43. 35
  44. 36
  45. 37
  46. 38
  47. 39
  48. 40
  49. 41
  50. 42
  51. 43
  52. 44
  53. 45
  54. 46
  55. 47
  56. 48
  57. 49
  58. 50
  59. 51
  60. 52
  61. 53
  62. 54
  63. 55
  64. 56
  65. 57
  66. 58
  67. Epilogue
  68. Acknowledgements
  69. About Caroline Mitchell
  70. About Embla Books

She jerked at the sudden sound of a door slamming in the distance. He was coming for her. She buried her head between her knees in an attempt to remove the hood. She could not do this blind. It jerked against her windpipe as she tugged. There was some kind of tie at the end. Another thought struck. She could get the hood off, but did she want to be bound when she did? The thought of what was in here with her was terrifying. She ground the zip ties harder against the pillar of wood, grunting as they finally broke. Her wrists felt like they were on fire, but she didn’t have time to worry about them. She fumbled with the tie at the end of the makeshift hood, which turned out to be her brother’s black gym sack. Pushing her hair from her face, she threw panicked glances left and right. Her gaze moved around the narrow space as her eyes adjusted. She could hardly see a thing. She shrank from the feel of cobwebs as she touched the walls. Think, she told herself, you got in here, you’ll find a way out. But she couldn’t see. She squirmed against the ties biting into her ankles, too scared to call for help. What if it was him? Groping in the dark, she tried to find a door. But the dusty cobwebbed tunnel seemed to go on forever. Out of nowhere, the flutter of a moth caught her eye. Its white wings glowed in the darkness. Entranced, she followed it, her breath catching in her throat as it led her to a chink of light. She pressed her hand against it. Then knocked … it was wood. The wall was made of wood. The timbers creaked and splintered as she pressed both hands against them. Drawing back, she put her weight behind it as she threw her body against the wall. Hope flared as bigger chinks of light bled through the cracked timbers. Bracing herself, she forced her weight against the wall for the second time.

A sudden crack of rotting timber was followed by a blast of light as she came out the other side. She thumped onto the floor, her ankles still bound. She was free of her prison, but still in Blackhall Manor. She breathed through the pain, her stomach lurching as she heard heavy, rushed footsteps on stairs. The Midnight Man was coming. Her hand fell to her stomach, to a gush of blood. It trickled through her fingers as shock pervaded her body. A shard of timber was embedded in the soft flesh. She lay, keening on the floor, too weak to try and escape as the footsteps approached. Through a haze of pain, she cried out. A damning sense of finality told her it was too late.

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