Chapter 3

Night fell, and the entire house grew as eerily quiet as a tomb.

Lying in bed, the sharp, relentless throbbing in my abdomen was a constant reminder of everything that had happened that day.

I couldn't wait any longer.

What had happened to Thorne and Odette proved one thing: Rowena was harboring some terrifying method down in that basement—something capable of instantly brainwashing a person or completely warping their humanity.

If I stayed here any longer, I would be the next one to completely lose my mind.

I had to run.

Fighting through the pain, I dragged a small backpack out from under my bed and frantically shoved in a few changes of clothes, whatever cash I had, and my passport.

I didn't dare turn on the lights. Guided only by the faint silver of moonlight filtering through the window, I crept toward my door like a ghost.

The hallway was pitch black.

Pressing my back against the wall and holding my breath, I inched my way toward the staircase.

Just as I was about to reach the first floor, I heard it—an incredibly faint, muffled scream.

It was coming from the basement.

It sounded like someone sobbing with a hand clamped hard over their mouth, a sound heavily laced with absolute agony.

A violent chill shot across my scalp, and my legs suddenly felt as heavy as lead.

Whose voice was that?

What the hell was Rowena doing down there?!

Reason screamed at me to run, but paralyzing fear nailed me to the spot.

Through the crack beneath the heavy basement door, I noticed an eerie, dark-crimson glow seeping out, accompanied by the low, continuous hum of heavy machinery.

Run... just run...

I bit my lip hard enough to draw blood, using the sharp biological sting to jolt my body back into motion.

I sprinted for the foyer, fumbling desperately as I unlocked the front door.

The door swung open. A rush of crisp, freezing night air hit my face. Freedom was right there.

But the very second I planted one foot outside, a massive arm shot out from the pitch darkness. It wrapped around my neck like an iron vise, ruthlessly choking off my air.

"Mmph—!"

I thrashed wildly, but the man's terrifying strength completely overwhelmed me.

"Going somewhere so late, Miss Isolde?"

A gravelly, menacing voice whispered directly into my ear.

Brute force violently dragged me backward into the house, and I was thrown hard onto the hardwood floor of the entryway.

My backpack spilled open, my passport sliding across the floor to coming to a halt directly at the intruder's combat boots.

The lights violently flicked on.

Towering over me was a massive, heavily stubbled man.

Clad in a black tactical jacket, his eyes were dead and uncompromisingly vicious.

I recognized him immediately. It was Silas—the volatile, supposedly abusive ex-military security guard who patrolled our gated community.

"Well done, Silas."

Rowena’s voice drifted down from the top of the stairs.

Draped in a sheer silk nightgown, she descended the staircase with sickening elegance. Trailing closely behind her was a middle-aged man in a sharp suit, wearing gold-rimmed glasses.

"Isolde, you have disappointed me profoundly."

"Your condition has deteriorated so severely that you're becoming a danger to yourself."

Rowena stared down at me, lacing her tone with a nauseatingly fake, maternal heartbreak.

"I'm not sick!"

"You crazy bitch, what the hell did you do to them?!"

I screamed hysterically, scrambling to get to my feet, but Silas planted his heavy boot squarely between my shoulder blades, pinning me ruthlessly to the floor.

"Hold her down."

Rowena commanded with absolute, chilling indifference.

The man in the glasses stepped forward, snapping open the medical kit in his hands.

It was Dr. Vance, Rowena's long-time private psychiatrist.

"Miss Isolde, your paranoia is completely out of control right now. We need you to calm down."

Dr. Vance spoke without a trace of emotion, retrieving a syringe filled with a thick, cloudy liquid from his kit.

"No!"

"Get away from me!"

"Don't touch me!"

I thrashed and writhed frantically, struggling like a dying fish on dry land.

But Silas was far too strong. He drove his knee hard into my spine and clamped his massive hand over the back of my neck, immobilizing me entirely.

Dr. Vance seized my forearm. I felt the cold, sharp bite of the needle pierce my vein.

The freezing liquid was pushed directly into my bloodstream.

Within seconds, my vision began to blur. Every ounce of strength was instantly drained from my limbs.

Just before the absolute darkness pulled me under, my head lolled to the side, and my gaze happened to catch sight of Rowena's bare ankle.

The hem of her silk nightgown was slightly parted, revealing a deeply grotesque black tattoo—an inverted cross, tightly coiled by a two-headed snake.

I finally understood exactly why all of this was happening.