Hollow Falls is just over the next hill. It hasn’t taken much for me to become accustomed to the woods again. Jaxon and I practically lived in these parts back in the day, but there was one thing I’d forgotten until now.

It’s funny how memories return to you when the time is right. When they’re meant to play a part in your life again. Everything I’d been sensing the past few days, from my dreams and the eerie cave drawing I took to Jaxon’s in my sleepwalking state, all brings me to here, to this night, with knowledge I’d suppressed for so long. But why?

I remember where he took me. Where I awoke, drifting in and out like I’d been drugged, feeling as if I’d been hauled through the mud and beaten to near-death. Where my world had become nothing but wide-open darkness, bordered by the cold rock and dirt at my feet.

But what I don’t remember is how I escaped. Why didn’t Brooks stop me? Certainly, he was at an advantage. I’d obviously been out of it for three days, not that I realized it at the time. All I knew was that I was somewhere dark, somewhere cold, somewhere that housed the same familiar rush of water I’d heard day-in and day-out for months.

I press harder against my weakening body, adrenaline giving me speed I wouldn’t normally be capable of. I know I need to run fast. I need to get somewhere. Anywhere, before the monster who stole seven years of my life can find me again.

The thought fuels my adrenaline again, causing me to shoot forward, but I miss my step. My toe slams on a fallen branch, sending me forward onto my elbows until I’m face-down in the muddy earth. My forehead slams into the jagged edge of a rock. My vision goes blurry as pain shoots through my right arm—the arm that took the most impact from my fall.

Shit. My throat burns from a thirst I didn’t know I had. My head grows fuzzy as the fuel that sent me flying through the woods, away from my enemy, dies out. My body groans with each attempt to stand.

Time passes, but I’m not sure how much. I need to rest. Only for a few minutes.

A twig snaps behind me.

Then I feel it: a heavy boot pressing into my back, shoving me deeper into the mud.

“That’s enough, you little bitch. Time to end what I thought I ended years ago.”

And then, with a blunt force slamming the side of my head, my world dulls, rings, then turns to black once again.

 

 

Hope is a flickering shadow against the prison walls of my mind, revealing its presence with each burst of light. Heat waves roll in, and like yesterday and all the days before, air washes my skin with a humidity that leaves me clammy, hot.

Footsteps approach, a medley of rocks and sticks, much heavier than my own. The sound crescendos at a steady pace. They’re heading toward me, and that’s how I know this day is different from the rest. This time, someone is coming for me.

“It’s time,” the deep voice booms. His words echo and fade through the space, each soundwave reverberating against me.

To have truth, one must find courage to seek light in the darkness. My father’s words cycle through my mind as I fight through the darkness.

Always carry your own light, Aurora. Never forget. The calming words continue as the footsteps fall silent. My skin prickles as a man stands before me smelling of musk and impatience. Of power and fear. My eyes search for him in the darkness until I find the white of his eyes, wide and firmly set on me. Waiting. Expecting…

But if it’s intimidation he seeks, he’ll be sorely disappointed. Darkness is no longer something I fear. Not when the light lives within me.

Because that’s the thing about weaknesses. They somehow have the power to make you stronger.

 

 

I gasp and my eyes fly open, only to find myself suffocating in darkness. My head pounds, and my body feels like lead. Yet somehow, I’m aware of my surroundings, something I wasn’t capable of seven years ago. The rush of Hollow Falls runs above me, taking its plunge to my right. It smells of stale air, plain but distinctive. But I can’t see it. I can’t see anything. It’s so cold, my bones are shivering beneath my skin. My arms, stretched out like a T, ache, my wrists raw and bruised from friction against the cold metal that keeps them in place.

My head whips right, then left. So much darkness. So much coldness. Too many senses firing off simultaneously. My body screams in pain and aches with a need to utilize senses that have been stolen from me. I yank against the chains. They rattle as I let out an angry cry. I peer around the space, eyes open, but the darkness is all-consuming. My chest heaves as I try to take breath after breath, but nothing is working. Every bone, every organ feels as if a vice is holding me in place, tightening and squeezing without an ounce of relief in sight.

And then I hear his footsteps. Like in my dream. But these steps don’t just sound heavy; I can almost hear their vibrato in the cold ground below me. And whoever it is, they’re moving closer and closer. My body begins to shake.

The scent of musk and dirt clashes against the stale air of the space around me as I take my first breath. Just a sip, but it’s something.

“We can’t have you die just yet, Princess Aurora. That idiot son of mine deterred my plans just a bit, but we’ll get back on track here shortly. You think you can breathe for me, sweetheart? As much as I love those panic attacks of yours, I need you coherent for this.”

The last thing I want is to give Brooks what he wants, but I need to breathe. I’ve got to get ahold of myself so I can think clearly.

So I let go. I let the panic take over instead of fighting it. I allow it to course through my veins and blacken my mind, and almost as soon as I’ve let go, it begins to dissolve. I feel the pressure in my chest relax. My lungs expand, and I’m able to take in a breath that could very well save my life.

“There ya go. Wouldn’t want you dying before we set the scene nice and pretty.” Brooks chuckles, a deep laugh that shakes the air around us. “Oh, how I wish your daddy hadn’t offed himself before getting out of that institution. It sure would have been great to see my old pal again.”

I shiver, thinking about the stories I’d hear about Brooks and my father at Franco’s. My dad would get trashed, and Brooks would drop him off on the doorstep at any odd hour of the day or night. I always thought he just had a soft spot for my dad and that he took care of him. Clearly there was something more to all of it.

“You framed him for murder.” My words come out as a raspy whisper, but he hears me. As breathing becomes easier, I’m aware of the rawness in my throat. My words are sandpaper. I want to scream, but that would only make the pain worse.

“There’s more to the story, darlin’.”

“Use my name,” I growl through my teeth.

Brooks laughs, a hearty laugh filled with venom and satisfaction. “Your father was a gullible son of a bitch, but he didn’t kill anyone.” Brooks lets out another deep chuckle.

“But they found me dying in his arms. He did nothing to stop it.”

“The man was ragier than a bull seein’ red, but he wouldn’t have harmed a hair on your head. He thought you were already dead. He told you as much in court.” Brooks’ patronizing tone whips through me, but I tamper it down with my resolve to get information. Long, overdue information. Someone is finally filling in the blanks.

“So it was you who took all those girls? And you—” I swallow over the lump forming in my throat. “Killed them?”

He smirks proudly.

“Then why didn’t you kill me?”

There’s a heavy sigh, followed by a whimpered cry coming from somewhere behind him. My senses kick into high gear as I track the sound, trying to make sense of what I can hear. It’s a girl. The moan sounds as if she’s just awoken. My heart pounds fiercely in my chest.

Melody Roberts. She’s still alive.

Brooks moves away from me, stepping to another part of the cave. Based on the number of steps he takes, I estimate it’s about ten yards away. “Rise and shine, sweetheart. Not much longer now, but you’re going to need to go back to sleep for me.”

She cries, a tortured cry like she’s gagged and unable to speak. There’s a rustling of fabric against the dirt floor, a rattle of chains just like mine, and a soft grinding noise like the sound of the screw top of a lid. A second later, her cries escalate in volume before becoming muffled again. He’s holding something against her mouth like he’s suffocating her. My stomach rolls and my heart rate quickens.

More cries tear from her throat as her feet slam into the ground over and over like a kicking and screaming toddler. Brooks shushes her, whispering for her to be still in a fatherly tone, telling her everything will be okay. I can’t see her. I can’t see whether she’ll be okay. But I don’t believe him.

Eventually everything goes still again. Did he put her to sleep? Nausea creeps from my gut and up my throat. Then all the sounds I heard Brooks making before, replay in reverse, until he’s stepping back over to me and leaning down. I can just see the glint of white in his eyes as he speaks.

“Sorry about that, princess. Where were we? Oh, yes. You wanted to know why I didn’t kill you.” He snorts. “Oh, I wanted to. I would have, but by the time I got back to the cave, you were gone.”

Cave? Is that where we are now?

He lets out another breath before leaning in again so I can see the dim outline of his face. I clench my jaw and take a breath through my nose to keep the bile from rising.

“The cave is where I held all the naughty girls like you,” he rumbles darkly. “You know the ones—the sluts who ran around the woods getting fucked by their boyfriends?” His breath blows over me, reeking of scotch like my father’s used to. Brooks stumbles back a step, unable to keep his balance. “Your father’s words, not mine, princess. Henry believed premarital sex was the ultimate sin. But you know that already, don’t you?” Brooks laughs. “He talked about murdering all the little whores in town, like they were all made from the devil. It’s what bonded us. What made us partners in a sense. And I’ll tell you something. He wasn’t too pleased when he found out his little girl was giving it up to the Mills boy on the other side of the woods.”

Brooks leans in, placing his hands on my wrists, shaking each one as if to check that I’m still secured here. “You were never supposed to be one of them, though—” His warm, rancid breath makes my stomach coil. “I only offed the girls your daddy picked out. He’d spy on the kids fuckin’ like rabbits—probably jacked off to the action, too—and then he’d run to me and spill all the details, along with how he wanted the little sluts to die for their sins. And lucky me. I had the pleasure of carrying out what he was too chicken shit to do—without him ever knowing.”

I gasp, and Brooks chuckles, confirming what everyone had feared. Part of me never wanted to know what happened to those girls—what could have happened to me. Hot tears sting the backs of my eyes.

“What?” he challenges, pushing away from my chains. “You think any of them minded me showing them how it feels to get fucked by a real man?” He laughs, a deep, sinister laugh that pulls chills from my body. “They loved every second of it. And if that damn dog of yours hadn’t shown up, you would have enjoyed it too.”

Wait. What? “Lacey?” My heart rate quickens.

“What other mutt would I be talking about? She must have followed us here that night. Damn shit started yapping away like she was being mutilated. I went after her. Put up quite the chase, that one did. I never did find her. Woulda snapped her neck if I had.”

I can’t even think about his words. “And when you came back, I was gone?”

“That’s right. Everyone was out looking for ya, but your pops found you first. Thought you were already dead, I guess. Poor stupid bastard didn’t even think to call for help.” Brooks lets out a chuckle in remembrance of his late friend.

“If he didn’t help you”—I swallow—“kill them…then he wasn’t your partner.”

Brooks guffaws. “It was all his idea. Well, sorta. Those schiz episodes he had were no joke.” Brooks shakes his head like he’s amazed. “I might have fed him the booze to help inspire him a little, but he’d go off. Tell me everything the voices in his head wanted him to do. Gave me the perfect execution plan—how to hide the girls, what to do with ’em, how to dump ’em so no one would ever find them. That’s half the job right there. Your daddy sure had a fucked up mind.”

This, coming from the man who carried out the dark delusions of a schizophrenic.

“You’re telling me he had no idea what you were doing?”

Brooks shakes his head. “Your daddy started to make a connection between the girls and himself in the spring before you moved here. Said he feared he was the one doing it all. I didn’t argue with him. Why would I? When he found you that day, his guilt was my perfect escape. The perfect setup.”

Something isn’t adding up. “How did he know where to look for me, then?”

“We found the cave together on a hike around Hollow Falls a few weeks after you and your mom left him. Joked about what we could do with the space. I’m guessing when he was desperate to find you, he remembered this place.”

Jesus.

“But there hasn’t been another murder in seven years. Tanner said so much himself. You’re telling me you just stopped killing, just like that?” I pause, answering my own question as I speak. “Or is that why you go out of town so much?” All the pieces of the puzzle are clicking together. “You aren’t helping search and rescues in other parts of the state, are you? They don’t even know you’re out there. You’re finding girls and cleaning up your messes before anyone is the wiser.”

“You’re a smart little whore, aren’t you? I couldn’t keep killin’ in Balsam Grove, now could I? Not after your pops was put away. But seeing you again—” he moans low in his throat and fists the erection pressing through his trousers. Acid shoots up my throat and I spit it out to the side. He doesn’t even notice, too turned on by wherever his thoughts have taken him.

“You should have seen the panic on your face when I almost ran you and Mills off the road. But it was when you spread your legs for your boy-toy at Hollow Falls that triggered my ache to kill again—just like old times—and I knew I could pin it on the crazy man’s little girl if I had to.”

“You’re a sick bastard,” I spit.

The back of his hand whips forward, stinging my cheek as the smack rings through the air, echoing off the cave walls. He steps forward, directly in front of my face, his nose practically grazing mine. Pain shoots down my throat, down my arms, and it lingers as his mouth begins to open. “Listen here, princess. I may not have finished what I started seven years ago, but you’re sure as hell going to get it now. I’d watch that pretty mouth of yours. After watching that fuck-show you put on for me the other night up in your daddy’s old bedroom…” He lets out a low growl, knotting my stomach and causing another sour taste to rise in my throat. “I’m more than ready to sit you right here in my lap—”

A bark sounds from beyond the cave. Distant, but I’d recognize Lacey’s bark from anywhere. My pulse quickens. Brooks whips his head toward the entrance and curses low in his throat. “That dog of yours sure knows how to crash a party.” He looks at me again with a sneer, eyeing my shackled wrists with approval. “It’s time I finish that mutt of yours off once and for all. And this time you ain’t goin’ anywhere, sweetheart.” He steps forward, pressing his oily cheek roughly against mine. “Wait right here, princess.”

I’m so consumed with the visuals of what Brooks is capable of, with the disgust that slithers down my throat and winds my gut in a chokehold, that I don’t even realize he’s left until the rush of the falls over my head brings me back to the present. Back to the physical pain Brooks inflicted on me with just a slap of his hand.

He won’t touch me again.

I yank my hands down, and the sharp, cool edges of whatever is wrapped around my wrists cut into me, slicing through my skin.

“Gah,” I moan. The pain is intense, but I manage to keep my scream to a whisper. I’m in cuffs, that’s for sure. But connected to what? Rock? I twist my body as much as the restraints will allow and try to feel around. My palm slides against a cool metal surface, a plate of some sort with a hook on it. Focusing on my right hand only, I shake my arm, seeing how far the chains allow me to move. Sure enough, after I’ve almost extended my elbow, I hear the crunching of rocks. I tug again, hope sparking in my chest. I’m hooked to a metal plate that’s been secured to the wall. But the plate is small, and the rocks are giving way with each tug.

And just like that, I see the light.