Chapter 1
Present Day
Adrenaline spikes through me as I press harder on the gas, my heartbeat kicking out of rhythm. I blink hard, ignoring the prickling behind my eyes as the road stretches ahead, starlight blurring faintly against the windshield.
Streetlamps flicker past in rapid bursts, casting long shadows across the asphalt while the trees loom on either side. The path thins, tightens, mimicking the clasp around my throat.
No one else is out this late.
My grip tightens on the wheel.
The earlier memory weasels its way in despite my best efforts to box it out, filling my mind with my stepmother’s biting criticisms. Her bony finger flexing at me, judgments lashing my way.
You’re nothing but a nuisance, Tatum.
I can still hear her stomping after me, rushing to keep up with my stride, her hot breath at the back of my neck, stirring the fine hairs there as I shove through the front door and bolt toward the car.
Your father would’ve been ashamed of you.
Usually, her words slide off me. But this…
this almost has me rearing back, ready to swing my fist into her face.
I don’t. Instead, I grit my teeth and hurl myself into the family’s old Buick, tossing the garbage bag from my shoulder into the passenger seat before tearing out of the driveway. Never looking back.
Twenty minutes into the drive, my phone pings from the console. I suck in a sharp breath, queasy relief settling in my chest as I snatch it up, waiting for a response from my boyfriend, Dax.
As long as I have him, I’ll be fine. He won’t make me go back there.
No one can.
My eyes lock onto the lit screen, magnetized. I wince as the harsh light scorches them, feeding the headache already building at my temples. The sweet, cloying vanilla smell from the garbage bag beside me only makes it worse. It’s just the weather app.
A flicker of disappointment snakes through me. The screen dims in my hand. My gaze flicks back to the road.
Taking a sharp left, I ease toward the trail Dax has been working on out in the woods, not open yet for the season.
I bite down on my bottom lip, my gaze flicking back to the screen, wrist braced against the edge of the wheel as I consider calling him.
Surely he’s still out there. He’s always working this late.
Swiping past the weather alert, I pull up his name and hit call before I can stop myself. The ringing fills the car, my arms tensing, fingers twitching.
He should’ve answered by now. He always does.
When I look up, a deer bursts from the trees ahead and into the road.
My pulse stutters—skips—drops.
I swerve. Hard. The phone flies from my hand, skidding between my legs and under the seat. My mouth opens on a clipped scream as I wrestle with the wheel, tires screeching as I veer out of my lane.
Fear surges up my throat as I brace for the collision, my foot slamming on the breaks. No, no, no. My heart drops. Eyes squeezing shut.
And before I can grasp it, I careen off the road, spiraling down a steep embankment.
I jerk forward on impact, my body tensing, head rattling from the force. My skull snaps back against the headrest as the car lurches to a stop.
I pull in a choppy breath.
A high whine fills my ears, bleeding into the phone still ringing somewhere below. For a second, they blur together until I realize it’s the same sound.
My vision clouds, the gearshift doubling in front of me. I groan again, low and sedated. “Shit—”
I cringe, eyebrows pulling tight. There’s a brief hesitation, then I reach for it, a tremor lacing my hand.
Sweat beads along my forehead despite the chill around me.
Clenching it, I shift into reverse and dig my heel into the pedal.
The engine roars, protesting, but the car doesn’t budge.
I roll my neck and I try again, blowing a strand of hair out of my face.
More rumbling. More whining.
Still nothing.
“Goddamn it,” I shout, my throat raw as I slam a hand into the center of the steering wheel, making it honk. With a shaky exhale, I lean back and straighten my shoulders, my eyes darting to the dashboard clock.
One twenty-seven a.m.
I mutter under my breath, fingers cinching around the steering wheel as I try to talk myself out of a spiral.
Think.
Just then, a muffled beep sounds near my feet. My phone.
I lean forward, wincing as the seatbelt tightens around my ribs. Heat rushes to my cheeks, the pressure mounting until something in my face feels ready to crack. One hand stays locked on the wheel, while the other scrapes blindly along the floor, fingers catching on gravel and torn carpet.
“Fuck—” I grumble, my fingers stretching blindly toward it. “Come on.”
Once it’s in my grasp, I snap upright, pain jolting up my spine. I glance at the screen, swiping dust from it. It’s already gone to voicemail.
Four minutes and thirty-two seconds.
I end the call and sink back into my seat, craning my neck toward the empty stretch of road. The deer’s gone. Tilted at an odd angle, the car rocks faintly in the wind, ghostly howls filling up the silence.
My breath stalls in my throat.
Panic spikes, scattering my thoughts as I shift into park and reach for the ignition, yanking the key free.
I haul my legs up onto the seat, my knees knocking the steering wheel.
The thin mesh of my tights drags along the upholstery as I wrench myself loose, the door jerking open as I spill out onto uneven ground.
I ball the hem of my oversized graphic tee, the fabric hanging low enough to pass as a dress, but not enough to cover my now exposed knee from the autumn breeze.
A cool gust skates past me, lifting my hair and lashing it across my eyes as the wind rises, low and hollow at first before picking up speed and pitching me forward.
I stumble along the side of the car as the damage comes into view, long scrape scars gouged across the passenger door, red paint stripped away in jagged lines. I steady myself, chewing my lip as I take it in.
God, I’m screwed.
My gaze drops to the tires, a shallow ridge of dry soil haloing them, packed so tightly it’s no wonder they can’t move.
Desperation crawls up my throat as I round the Buick, heading toward the back and hunch over, bracing my forearm against the frame and shoving with everything I have, trying to force it back up from the sharp incline.
It doesn’t even stir.
Sucking in a heavy breath, I lean back in and drive my knee into the metal this time, shoving with full force. My teeth grit, my neck straining.
It still doesn’t move. Not even the tiniest bit.
The muscles along my arms and legs tense, twitch, then give, and I go slack against the trunk, crumbling with a ragged breath. I rest my forehead there, listening to my heart hammer in my ears.
I don’t know what to do. Who to call.
A humorless laugh slips out of me, thin and manic.
It’s barely recognizable to me. Tears rush into my eyes as it sinks in that I’m not only stuck, but stranded too.
The worry I had for Dax dissipates, irritation threading in its place, pulling taut across my face as I push off the car with a grunt and force myself upright.
My feet cramp from the strain. I bite back a sob, frustration undercutting the pain. How hard was it for him to answer his phone? It’s practically his second limb. He can barely stand to shower without it.
The tension builds in my shoulders, in my jaw, tears threatening again before something flickers at the edge of my vision.
That’s when I see it. The lights of the haunted trail, flickering just a short stretch away. He’s close. Closer than I thought.
Relief slips in, shaky and uncertain, but it’s enough to steady me. I pitch forward, fingers tightening around my phone and keys as I follow the glow down the road.
By the time I reach the entrance, my Docs are soaked through, mud clinging to the soles. I push deeper into the empty lot, splashing across shallow puddles, the silence suffocating and eerily wrong.
His car isn’t here. There aren’t any cars at all.
My stomach drops—
Then I make it out. Dax’s beat-up Jeep, tucked into the far corner, obscured by shadows of the trees encircling it.
I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding as I cut across the lot, pace quickening, a semblance of hope blooming back to life again. But when I reach it and peer through the window, that feeling disintegrates just as fast as it came. He’s not there.
I pull back, scanning the trail entrance. He must still be inside.
Hesitation chips away at me as I weigh going in after him or waiting it out here, my lips raw from where I’ve been gnawing at them. The thought circles, my mind at war with itself. I really didn’t want to go inside.
I glance around again. It looks like he’s the only person left behind. What if he needs me?
A darker thought creeps in. What if he’s hurt?
I slip my phone from under my arm, unlock it, and fire off a quick text.
Me: Hey, I’m here at the trail by your car. Are you almost done?
Seconds tick by. I shift on my feet. Waiting, dreading, praying a response will come before—
Message failed to send.
I stare at it for a beat, unblinking.
Well.
I swallow hard. Guess I’m going in.
My gaze abandons the screen, drifting toward the dark, gaping entrance.
Unease creeps up my spine as I step forward, slower now, more careful.
Gravel crunches under my boots. I ease inside, every part of me tensing.
There’s no music, which is to be expected, but it’s too quiet.
Uncomfortably quiet. Even the whirr of animatronics is absent.
Something about it prickles at my nerves.
White cloth ghosts hang from the branches overhead, twisting violently in the wind, tangling and snapping back on themselves. I watch them a second too long before my boot catches on a thick black cord snaking across the walkway, jerking me forward.
Fuck.
My ankles flare as I straighten, a clipped breath leaving me as I smoothen the front of my shirt with the backs of my hands, wishing I had pockets to stash my things in. Instead, I grip them tighter, the ridged edge of my car keys digging into my palm.
"Hello?” I call out, slowing beside a pair of towering clown animatronics that loom on either side of the path, their painted grins boxing me in beneath their ghastly stares. “Dax, you here?”
I falter, my pulse hammering in my throat.
Then I force another step forward. Pause again.
A brisk gust barrels through the trees, snapping branches hard enough to make me flinch. The howling almost sounds like whispers. I stop, listening. No. It’s just the wind, I tell myself. Even though it didn’t sound like it.
Thoughts pile in fast, one over the other, each one stealing a bit more air from my lungs. Goosebumps prickle along my arms and neck as I edge a foot back, my gaze locked on the dense trees, the urge to turn for the Jeep tightening in my chest.
Fool that I am, I stay rooted for a fraction of a second, picturing Dax tangled in a mess of cords just a little further down the trail. Or worse, someone dragging him into the woods, a hand locked around his throat.
My stomach lurches.
Breathe, Tatum. Just breathe.
I start to step back again, already turning toward the open lot when the leaves rustle. Softer this time. Wait…it’s not wind. It’s their voices.
Human voices.
I freeze.
Dread settles low in my stomach, spreading upward until it clamps tight around my throat. I squint through the branches, holding my breath.
The voice comes again, clearer now. Familiar.
Dax.
Oh, God.
My brows pull tight, my heart stuttering as the worse possibilities flood my mind. He’s been dragged out there. Tied up. Hurt.
I need to call for help. I need—I need—
Another voice interjects. Distinctly feminine.
She laughs, the sound carrying through the trees, light and airy, not sinister at all. It occurs to me then, hitting me all at once.
Dax isn’t alone. He’s with another woman.