Annalisa
We reached the gap in the foliage, and there, bathed in the flickering glow of a single lantern, I saw them.
Annalise.
She stood huddled in a corner, her face pale and drawn, fear etched into every line of her posture. But it wasn’t just fear. It was something more. A frantic desperation that manifested in the way she kept glancing at the shadows, the way her hands clawed at the rough stone wall behind her.
And then I saw him. Spencer.
He stood a few paces from Annalise, a cruel smile twisting his lips. In his hand, he held a gleaming knife, its sharp edge reflecting the flickering lamplight.
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