Chapter 22: Hands in the Dark

EVELYN POV

The rain was not a drizzle; it was a heavy wall of cold, grey water that blurred the edge of the woods and turned the soil into slick, treacherous mud.

Every breath burned in my lungs, tasting of wet earth and iron. I couldn't feel my fingers anymore—they were numb, stained with dirt, and raw from clutching the exposed roots along the ravine’s edge. Down below, deep in the thick shadows where the last light of the dying sun couldn't reach, something shifted. A faint, wet cough cut through the rush of water.

"Hold on!" I screamed into the wind, my voice cracking against the roar of the storm. "Do you hear me? Don't you dare close your eyes!"

I didn't know the boy. I didn't know how he had ended up at the bottom of the Blackwood Ridge ravine with a broken leg and a chest that heaved with ragged, shallow gasps. All I knew was the sheer, suffocating terror in his wide eyes when I had first peeked over the edge. It was a look I recognized instantly—the look of someone cornered, trapped by a world that didn't care whether they lived or died.

I threw my weight backward, my boots skidding across the wet carpet of pine needles. My hands wrapped tighter around the thick wild vine I had spent five agonizing minutes hacking free with my pocketknife. The rough, prickly bark bit straight through my canvas gloves, digging into my palms, but I couldn't afford to loosen my grip for even a second.

If I let go, he was gone.

"Grab it!" I yelled, leaning over the crumbling lip of the drop-off. "Wrap it around your wrists, not just your hands! Use the knots!"

Below me, the boy let out a small, ragged sob that made my chest tighten. He was young—maybe fourteen, no older than my younger brother would have been. His face was smeared with dark mud and streaks of blood, his dark hair plastered to his forehead. With trembling, clumsy fingers, he reached for the dangling vine.

"I... I can't," he wept, his voice tiny against the wind. "My arm... I think it's broken too."

"You can," I snapped, forcing my voice to stay firm even as panic clawed at my throat. Panic was a luxury neither of us had. "You listen to me. You want to make it through tonight? You wrap that vine. Now!"

Fear did what strength couldn't. The boy groaned, a sound of pure pain, and hoisted his weight slightly, loop-wrapping the sturdy cord of wild vegetation around his left forearm.

I planted my heel against the root of an old oak tree, leaned back, and pulled with everything I had left.

Pain exploded across my shoulders, shooting down my lower back like a hot wire. Inch by inch, foot by foot, I hauled him up. My muscles screamed, my lungs desperate for air. The mud beneath my boots gave way, sliding me forward an inch—two inches—toward the drop.

"Don't let go," I muttered under my breath like a prayer, my teeth grinding so hard my jaw ached. "Don't you dare give up."

The boy’s hands scrambled over the top edge of the ridge. I reached out with one bloodied hand, grabbed the damp fabric of his coat collar, and threw my body backward with a harsh breath.

We collapsed together onto the flat ground, gasping for air as the rain poured down over us.

For a long moment, only the sound of our ragged breathing filled the quiet air. I lay on my back, staring up at the bruised, purple sky, my chest heaving. My hands were trembling so violently I couldn't close them into fists. Beside me, the boy curled inward, shivering uncontrollably and wiping his face with a wet sleeve.

"You're okay," I rasped, forcing myself up onto my elbows despite the deep ache in my limbs. I crawled over to him, my knee giving out once before I stabilized myself. "You're safe now. Hey... look at me."

I reached out, gently brushing the wet hair away from his forehead. He flinched at the movement, his eyes darting around the dark trees.

"Where does it hurt?" I asked softly, the adrenaline beginning to fade and leaving behind a cold, hollow tiredness.

"The... the leg," he stammered, his teeth chattering so hard he could barely form the words. "And... they're coming. They're coming for me. We have to run."

I froze, my hand pausing. The forest around us felt suddenly too quiet. The wind seemed to drop, the tall trees standing like dark shadows over the ridge.

"Who is coming?" I asked, a cold feeling settling in my stomach.

"The men... from the manor," the boy whispered, tears cutting clean tracks through the dirt on his face. "They found out who I am. They found out I took the letter."

My breath caught in my throat. The manor. There was only one estate on this side of the valley—the Coker Estate. The place I had spent three long years running from. The place that had taken everything from my family and left me with nothing but a name I couldn't use.

"What letter?" I asked quietly, my fingers gripping his shoulder a little tighter.

The boy reached inside his soaked jacket, his fingers awkward and cold. From an inner pocket wrapped tightly in oilcloth, he pulled out a thick envelope. The rain ran off the paper, but the wax seal remained unbroken.

I stared at it. Pressed into the dark crimson wax was a crest I knew better than my own face: a crested falcon holding a broken sword.

It was my father's seal.

"He... the old lord told me to run if anything happened to him," the boy sobbed, his voice growing weaker as shock set in. "He said... he said the heiress is still alive. Evelyn Coker is alive. This proves it. It's the original will..."

The world narrowed down to that crimson wax staring up at me from the hands of a bleeding boy. My heart pounded against my ribs.

I opened my mouth to ask how this could be, how a letter from my past could end up here, when a sharp snap echoed from the tree line just fifty yards away.

It wasn't the sound of a falling branch. It was a heavy, deliberate boot stepping on dry brush beneath the canopy.

Then came another. And another.

A beam of bright white light cut through the dark, sweeping across the ground, searching.

"Search the edge!" a harsh voice barked through the dark, followed by the static of a two-way radio. "The kid couldn't have gone far with a broken leg. The master wants that letter destroyed before dawn, and he wants no witnesses!"

The boy let out a small, terrified whimpering sound, clutching the envelope tightly to his chest.

I scrambled to my knees, placing my body between the approaching light and the boy. My mind raced. My hands were raw, my body was exhausted, and armed men were closing in on us in the dark.

If I ran now, I could disappear into the shadows of the forest I knew so well. I could stay hidden.

If I stayed, I was taking back a dead girl's name—and stepping straight into the path of the people who wanted her gone.

The flashlight beam flicked across the tree right beside us, catching my face in a sudden, blinding flash of white light.

"Over here!" a voice shouted. "I found them!"