Trust No One

Prologue

I knew better. Don’t get greedy. Don’t go back. But I did both. And now? It would cost me everything.

This truth clawed at me as I sprinted barefoot down the narrow path cutting through the woods, away from Hale House, toward the caretaker’s cottage. Branches whipped and scratched my arms.

My head reeled. I stumbled, caught myself, but my recovery was clumsy, desperate.

The deeper I pushed, the colder it grew. The air thickened. Roots chewed at my feet. Rocks sliced. Cramps seized my belly as my chest locked tight, and labored breaths strained the muscles banding my rib cage.

The ground dipped toward the creek. Mud sucked at my toes, cold, soft, greedy, as another violent spasm racked my body. I doubled over as sweat pooled in my mouth.

Silence fell. Stillness settled. An owl hooted, mournful.

My gaze lifted to the opposite bank. If I could cross here, the caretaker’s cottage was less than a mile. I’d find help and safety there.

Halfway across, the mud snagged my foot and dragged me down. I pitched forward, palms and knees sinking deep. Panic shredded what strength I had left.

Deep breaths battled more pain.

After years of terrible chances, I’d never thought about dying. But now I did. Death was close, prowling the shadows. And when I looked up, I saw its face watching with a cruel curiosity.

“Go away,” I rasped.

Death didn’t move. Still and silent. Waiting.

Mud clung like shackles as I wrenched my foot from the mire. I struggled. But the sludge gripped tighter. Finally, I jerked free, but the fight cost me any remaining reserves.

I staggered on, my heart battering my chest. The moon beamed its miserly light, fighting vainly against the blackened skies.

Mere feet separated me from the other side. Not much longer. But my limbs were heavy. I gasped. More tremors twisted my body. I vomited the tea and cookies I’d consumed less than an hour earlier.

I reached for a second breath, but there was nothing to grab. My heart faltered. Vision dimmed. My head spun. I fell forward, landing on the bank.

A flashlight grazed the trees. Had I been saved and, by some miracle, found?

Footsteps approached, slow and steady. Watching, observing me, calculating. It wasn’t a savior. Terror spiked sharp.

Death had found me.

I rolled on my back. I’d fought for everything since I was a kid. I wasn’t afraid of a good scrape—but I couldn’t fight this.

The hooded figure leaned close. The flashlight blinded me. A boot kicked my leg. Testing.

I was alive. Barely. And then . . .

A rag pressed against my nose. No more air. No more chances. Darkness swallowed me whole.