“You’re going to be okay,” Adrian promises, hurrying me through the dim tunnel. “I’ll take you to a safe place.” Silent pauses fill the spaces between the words, which tells me he’s not sure if we’ll be able to escape Judson’s wrath, that he’ll be able to keep the promise he made Damien. Judson could find us at the other end of the tunnel.

I suck in the moldy air and damp wood smell, biting back tears.

When I last checked the time, before Damien had gone down for a drink, it had been 1:00 a.m. Whether Adrian and I will live long enough to see the break of dawn is in God’s hands. Or Judson’s. If I survive, how would I ever be able to stop replaying what happened in the basement? How would I forget the sounds of the shots fired, the haunted look in Damien’s eyes, the taste of blood and dust on my tongue, the smell of gin? How will I forget the sensation of Damien’s penis inside me?

At last, we emerge from the tunnel onto a beach with miles of sand and pebbles stretching out ahead of us. Waves rumble in the distance.

Whether this private beach belongs to Damien’s mansion or if we’re off his grounds, I can’t tell. Why did Damien have a secret tunnel built on his property in the first place? Did he live in fear of Judson?

Right now it doesn’t matter. What matters is that it got us the hell out of there.

I take a breath, replacing the stale air with fresh sea air.

A shiver ripples through me when a blast of cool air—carrying water droplets—sweeps over my skin, penetrating the thin material of my negligée.

Adrian doesn’t lower me to the ground as he turns onto a dark path leading away from the beach. Is he worried I’d slow our pace? The long dry reeds framing the path tickle my dangling legs. His breathing comes in short, quick gasps by the time we climb the steps on one side of the promenade and descend on the other.

His car is parked behind a closed hot dog stand.

When he bundles me inside, I flop to my side, where my butchered cheek meets the leather of the backseat. He does his best to fasten the seatbelt around me without my having to sit upright. The moment he shuts the door, my tears come. The salt stings my cheek but the pain is welcome. It makes me feel a different sensation apart from numbness.

Adrian gets behind the wheel and drives us to what I hope is safety. Since arriving at Damien’s mansion, all I wanted was to escape. Now I have and I still don’t feel free. In fact, my heart is heavier than it had been in the past weeks.

Adrian is on the phone, talking to someone in fluent Spanish. I hope it’s the police and a paramedic. Maybe someone will make it to Damien in time to save his life. And Judson has to be stopped. The thought of him traveling around the US, pretending to be a professor so he can get his hands on innocent girls to defile and then sell, fills me with dread.

I’m not sure how long we drive but the car eventually comes to an abrupt halt. Adrian exits the car and comes to carry me from the backseat, where he finds me in the same position he had left me. With me in his arms, he kicks open a metal gate and walks me to the door of a one-story house. The door opens before we reach it and Hanna emerges, the light from the house making her white nightgown glow.

“Heavens, what did he do to her? Adrian, she’s bleeding.”

“I’ll explain later.” Adrian carries me into the house and shuts the door. “Get the first aid kit. I think she’s in shock.”

He lowers me onto a camel corduroy couch and I close my eyes; the soothing familiar sound of Hanna’s voice calming my nerves.

“Sweetheart, don’t be afraid,” she coos. “I’ll take care of you.”

I lift my eyelids to see her face. The loose hair around her shoulders makes her face softer than I remember from when she worked at Damien’s mansion.

She touches my unbruised cheek then stands. Throwing Adrian a look, she pushes past him and walks up a short staircase. She returns with a first aid kit and tends to the cut on my cheek.

“It’s time you tell me everything, Adrian Peters. What did Damien do to the poor girl? I’m tired of the secrets.” Hanna doesn’t look at Adrian as she cleans my cut.

Since we arrived, Adrian has been pacing the room, twisting his handlebar mustache between a thumb and forefinger.

“It wasn’t Damien. It was Judson.”

Hanna pauses but her hand remains on my cheek. “The psychotic twin brother? Isn’t he locked away—in the US?”

“Not anymore. He escaped.” He lets go of the mustache. “Look, honey, I’ll tell you everything later. There are a few things I need to get from Damien’s office first.”

Honey?

“Where’s Damien now?” Hanna brushes back my hair, unsticking it from the blood on my cheek.

“Judson shot him as we were getting away.”

“Jesus.” A shocked breath shoots from Hanna’s mouth and cools my damp cheek. “He’s dead?”

“I don’t know. Possibly. There’s something he asked me to do. He made me promise to take care of Ivy and that’s what I intend to do.” Adrian hurries back to the door. “I won’t be long.”

“Are we safe here? Did you call the police?” Hanna’s voice comes out choked.

“I think we’re safe for now. I called the cops on the way here.”

Adrian pulls the door open and disappears into the night.

“I’m so sorry,” Hanna says when we’re alone. “You poor, poor girl. I won’t let anyone hurt you again.”

I swallow my tears. I think it will be a while before I’m able to speak again.