Chapter 3

Alistair poured the wine. His grip on the crystal stem was light, casual.

But his knuckles were a mess. Four fresh, crescent-shaped gouges cut deep into his skin, the edges raw and weeping blood.

The smell of the roasted lamb suddenly made me want to gag. I forced a mouthful of potatoes down my throat. "It's wonderful, sir. Thank you."

He took a sip, watching us over the rim of his glass.

"The trust fund attorneys are coming to the city notary tomorrow morning. One of you needs to come with me for the authorization test."

His eyes bypassed Sophia entirely and locked onto mine.

Under the table, Sophia’s knee bumped mine. We both knew the math. The city meant public spaces, cameras, a chance. Staying behind meant the cellar.

"Let me go, sir," Sophia blurted out. She forced a bright, eager tone, though her hands were shaking. "I want to take the test."

A muscle jumped in Alistair’s jaw. Then, just as quickly, the warm, paternal smile returned. "Very well, Sophia. Get some rest."

Midnight. Two cheap burner phones sat on our mattress.

I bit off a piece of thread, pulling the final knot tight against the thick lining of Sophia’s undergarment. The phone was hidden deep inside the seam.

"Location is tracking," I whispered. "Keep it on silent. The second you get inside the notary building, find a bathroom, lock the stall, and call the cops."

She clutched the fabric to her chest. "What if he doesn't actually take me to the city?"

"He has to. He needs a pawn to sign the trust documents in front of witnesses. Just survive the car ride."

By dawn, the heavy iron gates of the estate parted. I watched from the second-floor window as Alistair’s black Rolls-Royce pulled out onto the highway, disappearing into the morning fog.

I grabbed an iron fireplace poker and headed downstairs.

The cellar corridor was freezing. Even Alistair’s heavy floral cologne couldn't cover the sharp, chemical reek of formalin leaking from under the rusted door.

I crouched in front of it. Recalling the blueprints from my first life, I ran my fingers down the damp stone wall. Third brick down. I pressed the uneven edge, searching for the mechanical release.

My phone buzzed.

I pulled it out.

Sophia’s blue tracking dot wasn't on the highway. It was right on top of my location.

Distance: thirty feet.

Straight down.

A delayed text message finally pushed through the weak signal. The timestamp was from twelve minutes ago.

[He didn't leave. He took me somewhere dark. Run.]

Twelve minutes.

The panic hit me like a physical blow. I jammed the iron poker into the gap of the floor ventilation grate beside the door. I threw my entire weight onto it. The rusted screws shrieked and popped out of the stone.

There was no running anymore.

I kicked the grate aside, swung my legs into the dark chute, and dropped.

Metal scraped the skin off my elbows as I slid down the narrow shaft. I crashed hard onto an iron-grated floor.

I scrambled up, gripping the poker, and looked around.

Sophia hung in the center of the room.

A meat hook had been driven through the thick collar of her dress, suspending her in the air. Both of her kneecaps were shattered—brutal, jagged bone tore through her stockings. She thrashed against the chain, her mouth stretching wide in a silent scream.

"There you are."

Alistair stepped out from the shadows underneath her. He wore a heavy leather butcher's apron over a crisp dress shirt. He didn't even look surprised.

And he was cradling someone in his arms.

It was a woman in a shredded silk nightgown. Her limbs were a map of old burn scars and lash marks. She shrank into Alistair’s chest, hiding her face, trembling violently.

Alistair stroked her matted hair. He pressed a gentle kiss to the top of her head, completely ignoring Sophia's blood dripping onto the white tiles right next to his boots.

Was she the source of the screams from last night?

The woman slowly turned her head to look at me.

The poker nearly slipped from my grip.

Her cheekbones, the sharp angle of her jaw, the pale blue eyes staring at me in terror.

His eyes. She had the same piercing blue eyes as Alistair.

I leveled the iron poker at him.

"Who is she?"