Chapter 3

She is back in the forest.

The cold reaches her first, wrapping around her as she runs through the towering pines. Her breath tears from her lungs in ragged bursts while low branches whip at her arms, leaving sharp stings across her skin. Somewhere beyond the trees, the lights of Oakheart Ridge shimmer against the hillside.

Home.

The Venandi mansion watches over the town, its windows glowing warmly in the distance, the lights at the front gates burning like tiny stars. She's so close that relief begins to loosen the tightness in her chest.

For one strange, impossible moment, she notices how beautiful the night is. Moonlight spills across the old playground, coating the rusted swings and spiral slide in silver beneath a sky crowded with stars.

Then her heel sinks into the soft earth.

She stumbles.

One shoe is swallowed by the mud, and she almost bends to pull it free before deciding it isn't worth the time. The alcohol still clouds her thoughts, slowing everything, convincing her she has plenty of time. Almost home.

A sharp twist knots her stomach.

She stops.

The silence settles so suddenly it feels wrong. No wind stirs the branches overhead. No insects sing. Even the trees seem to be holding their breath.

Something is watching her.

She doesn't know why she's certain of it.

She just is.

Her pulse begins to hammer.

She turns—

A hand slams over her mouth.

The world lurches as she's dragged backwards into the darkness between the trees, her heels carving useless trenches through the wet grass while her fingers claw desperately at the hand crushing her jaw. She tries to scream, but the sound dies against his palm.

The smell reaches her before anything else.

Damp earth.

Alcohol.

Something sour.

Then another scent slips beneath them all.

Wet fur.

Her stomach lurches.

Someone laughs.

Another voice answers, too low for her to make out the words, but the easy amusement in it sends panic crashing through her.

She thrashes wildly, managing to wrench one arm free before rough hands seize her again and throw her to the ground. Her knees slam into the dirt, dead leaves sticking to her palms as she scrambles blindly through the mud.

A cigarette flares somewhere in the darkness.

Orange.

Then black again.

She can only make out silhouettes.

One of them steps closer.

For the briefest heartbeat, moonlight catches something.

A flash of gold.

Eyes.

Or perhaps only reflected light.

She doesn't know.

Fear floods every part of her as she screams against the hand over her mouth—

"Minnow!"

The voice slices cleanly through the nightmare.

Hands grip her shoulders, shaking her hard.

"Minnow, wake up!"

The forest shatters.

Her eyes fly open to find Saylor leaning over her, his face pale with worry, one hand still gripping her shoulder while the other brushes damp strands of hair away from her face.

"You're safe," he says softly, his breathing almost as uneven as hers. "It's okay. I'm here."

Minnow drags in a desperate breath, her heart pounding so violently it hurts. For several long seconds she can't tell which world is real.

"I'm sorry," she whispers.

"Don't apologise."

He lies back beside her but doesn't take his eyes off her.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

Minnow stares at the ceiling, trying to hold onto the dream before it disappears completely.

"I remembered something."

"What?"

"I could smell them."

Saylor stills.

"Them?"

She nods.

"They smelled like wet earth... alcohol..." She hesitates. "And something else."

"What?"

"I don't know." Frustration creeps into her voice. "Something... animal."

He says nothing.

"I know how that sounds."

"I don't think you're silly."

Minnow lets out a tired breath.

"I thought I saw eyes."

"What about them?"

She closes her eyes, searching for the memory, but it slips away again.

"It doesn't make sense."

Saylor studies her for another moment before gently tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

"You should try to get some more sleep."

She nods.

Within minutes, his breathing evens beside her, but Minnow remains awake, staring into the darkness while she tries to convince herself that fear has twisted ordinary men into monsters.

It has to be that.

It's the only explanation that makes sense.

Yet the feeling refuses to leave her.

Whoever they were...

If she ever remembered—

She would make them pay.