Beyond The Lake House

When Lulu Davenport is kidnapped and imprisoned in a decaying barn with no memory of how she got there, her forgotten past begins to surface. Raised far from the cult that once claimed her, she’s been dragged back to fulfill a dark legacy—one that ties her to a twin brother she never knew and a twisted plan for her future.

With time running out, Lulu must uncover the truth, unlock the power within her, and fight back—before she becomes the very thing they want her to be.

Dark, suspenseful, and emotionally raw—a gripping story of secrets, survival, and the strength to reclaim your life.

—We stood there a while longer, letting the wind move through us like a whispered prayer, letting the sun warm our skin, letting ourselves believe—even if just a little—that the worst was behind us—

PART ONE - SAMPLE READ

I pressed my forehead to the warped windowpane, breath fogging the glass, the chill biting back at my skin like the dread coiling beneath it.

Outside, the world moved on—while inside, isolation unraveled my mind, gnawed at my body, and slowly strangled my soul. This place was no home.

It was a sentence carved in stone.

The landscape beyond mirrored the cold inside—dark, windswept, and unwelcoming. A violent rainstorm slashed sideways in the grip of a westerly wind, soaking the meadows in sheets of gray

.

The sky hung low, heavy with dread, and the world looked as bleak as the one that now confined me—a desolate stretch of moorland, blackened by storm and shadow. The wind howled like a wounded beast, driving sheets of rain sideways across the meadows, as if nature itself were trying to claw its way free.

Inside, I shivered in the stark, sparsely furnished room. The frigid air crawled across the floor like something alive. I reached out and traced the wooden window frame with a trembling finger, pausing where the rusted security bars intersected. They were not just part of the structure—they were part of my cage.

A pale, swollen moon cast long, shifting shadows over the fields beyond, where cattle grazed silently beneath trees that swayed in fevered rhythm near the distant mountains.

In my mind, I fled.

I ran barefoot through that sodden earth, laughing, spinning, drunk on the moonlight’s glow—free. But my fantasy could not undo steel.

The shackles clamped around my ankles rattled as I moved, a bitter reminder that freedom was a memory now, and the stone wall behind me was the only thing I was allowed to lean on.

I was alone.

Watched.

Forgotten… but not for long.

A creak echoed from somewhere deep within the barn.

Not the wind—no, this sound had weight to it, intent.

Floorboards groaning beneath deliberate steps, too slow to be accidental, too soft to be human.

I turned my head, heart stuttering. But the shadows held their silence. The only movement was the silver flicker of the moon’s glow slicing through the bars, and the steady drip of water leaking from the ceiling, falling—always falling—into a puddle just inches from my bare foot.

Drip.

Drip.

Drip.

The rhythm was maddening.

I sank to the floor, clutched my knees to my chest, drawing tighter against the stone, as if I could fold myself small enough to vanish.

There were whispers at night.

At first, I had convinced myself they were dreams—the mind’s fragile tricks under pressure. But last night, one voice had spoken my name.

Clearly.

Softly.

Right at my ear.

It was not the guards—they rarely came.

Not since the last time, when the woman down the corridor screamed until her voice broke like glass, and silence took her for good.

I remember her begging.

I remember how the darkness swallowed the sound of her chains.

Now, aside from Luna, I think I’m the only one left.

Or perhaps I’m next.

The door to my cell has not opened in hours.

Or has it been longer?

Time is nonexistent here—it bends around fear.

Sometimes, when I press my face to the bars, I see a figure standing in the field at the edge of the lake.

Motionless.

Always watching.

The first time I saw it, I thought it might be a shepherd.

But it never moves.

And the cattle give it a wide berth.

I don’t know if it’s real.

I don’t know if any of this is real. But I know the night is coming fast—and something in this house waits for darkness like a beast that hungers to be fed.

A slight movement to my right snapped me to attention.

There—half-lit by the pale light of the night sky leaking through the barred window—lay a girl. Restless. Speechless. Her limbs curled inward like someone trying to fold away from the world.

Luna Armstrong.

My unexpected roommate.

And possibly the only person left who still breathed in this forsaken place.

I exhaled slowly and muttered, “I’d say we’re in a right mess.”

“Stop feeling sorry for yourself,” she groaned without turning. Her voice was rough with exhaustion, or maybe defeat. “You might as well accept it—this is our fate. The only other place we’re going is six feet under.”

I bristled.

“Don’t be a pessimist. And don’t tell me what to do.” We met just hours ago, and already she was getting under my skin.

Still… part of me knew she wasn’t wrong.

Luna pushed herself up on one elbow, her eyes glinting.

“Hey. No need for attitude. I’m just speaking the truth. We’re not getting out of here.”

“I don’t have an attitude,” I snapped. “I’m just sick of being locked in this decaying hellhole while some lunatic plays God behind the walls.”

“You’re alive. That should count for something.”

“It does,” I admitted. “But I’m not going to sit here and play victim while he decides when we eat, when we sleep—if we wake up at all.”

Luna was quiet for a moment.

Then, softly she spoke.

“In case you haven’t noticed… that bastard holding us hostage? He’s not just a freak.”

I turned sharply.

“What do you mean?”

She didn’t answer right away.

Her gaze drifted to the corner, where shadow pooled unnaturally, thick, and watchful.

“There’s something wrong with him,” she whispered. “Something wrong in a way that doesn’t breathe. That doesn’t sleep. I heard him once… humming, just outside the door. But when I looked through the crack, he was on the ceiling. Not the floor. The ceiling.”

I stared at her, heart thudding. “You’re lying.”

“I wish I were.”

Silence fell again—thick, suffocating.

The kind of silence that listens.

I nodded slowly, pretending to agree.

But I was not her ally.

I didn’t trust Luna—not her cynicism, not her shifting moods, and certainly not the way she never quite looked me in the eye.

Still, if she thought I was abiding by the rules, all the better.

Let her get comfortable.

Let them all get comfortable.

Because I had no intention of accepting death as my fate.

The demons might rule this filthy stronghold, but that didn’t mean we couldn’t carve out a rebellion.

“We can overcome them,” I whispered, keeping my tone even. “If you distract the daughters, I’ll take down the old man. The one running this cult.”

Luna flinched, shifting on the threadbare cushion.

“You cannot be serious.”

“I’m more serious than the word itself.” My voice dropped. “And you know what? We can get out of here. We just need a real plan. Something clever. Precise. But it’s possible.”

She stared at me for a long moment, eyes hard to read in the half-light. Then she exhaled—long and low, like someone releasing a truth they didn’t want to carry.

“Just let it go, Lulu,” she said. Her voice was tired. Older than her face.

She turned her head toward the wall, but I saw her fingers twitch.

Nerves.

“I’m not dying because of you,” she added quickly.

Her voice had gone flat.

I rolled my eyes, even as my heartbeat started to rise.

“We’re not going to die,” I hissed. “Someone’s going to find us. Someone has to be looking. I can feel it.”

“But who?” she asked, her tone sharp and quiet, like the strike of a match in a dark tunnel.

I didn’t have an answer. Not one I could say out loud.

The silence returned, but it felt heavier now—thicker.

From the hallway, something moved.

A soft scrape.

A low creak.

Luna turned her face toward the sound, and for the first time since we’d met, I saw real fear in her eyes.

“They’re listening,” she mouthed. “Are you for sure someone out there could be searching for us, and if so, who?”

I shrugged again, sharp and frustrated.

“I don’t know,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady. “But I’m certain someone’s searching the area right now.”

Luna gave a bitter laugh, barely more than breath.

“I’ve been here for weeks, Lulu. Don’t you think someone would’ve found me by now?”

“How many weeks?”

“At least five.”

I swallowed hard.

“Don’t give up hope, Luna. The police… your family… someone will keep looking.” I tried to sound confident. I don’t think I convinced even myself.

She turned to me, eyes sunken but clear.

“You’ve been here four days, Lulu. No one’s found you either. What makes you think your rescuers haven’t already given up?”

“What?” I blinked. “That’s not possible. I got here last night.”

She shook her head slowly, like she’d been waiting for this conversation.

“No. You arrived exactly four days and seven hours ago.”

I stared at her. “No way. Look at me—I’m still in the same clothes. They’d have changed me by now. Even if it was into rags. You’re confused.”

“I’m not. I’m telling the truth. Whether you want to accept it or not.”

I felt like the room was tilting, the air pressing in around me. “How could that much time pass without me knowing?”

“You were unconscious most days,” Luna said. “And when you weren’t asleep, you just stood there—at the window—like you weren’t even really awake.”

I shook my head violently.

“That’s impossible.”

“No, Lulu. The old man—he drugged you. From day one. I saw it. You’ve been slipping in and out. You screamed for hours when they first brought you in, and he dosed with pills to shut you up.”

I stared at her, trying to piece together flashes—blurred light, the taste of metal in my mouth, the heavy weight in my limbs. “I don’t remember…”

“You don’t have to,” Luna said flatly. “Your body remembers for you.”

I shuddered and stretched up, clutching my blouse, fumbling to refasten the buttons. “We have to escape,” I muttered. “We can’t stay here. Why don’t we try to get attention from outside? There’s livestock on the property—someone must deliver supplies. Feed. Anything. Have you seen any trucks come and go?”

Luna slowly shook her head.

“This is insane,” I muttered, pacing as far as the chains would allow. “They can’t possibly be running a place like this without some contact with the outside world. There has to be a way out.”

“I’ve searched,” she said. “As far as the shackles let me. No exit. No trapdoors. Nothing. And you’re right—we’re both bound to this goddamn wall, like animals.”

I threw up my arms again, then dropped them, defeated. I slumped against the stone wall, letting my head fall back against its cold surface. “Unbelievable,” I whispered, pressing my fingers to my temples. “We have to attract attention—something.”

“How?” she asked. “What can we do from in here?”

“Start a fire,” I said, too quickly.

Her eyes widened.

“And burn to death? That’s your plan?”

I turned to her, breathing hard. “Do you have a better one?” I hissed. “Because I’d rather risk smoke and flames than rot in this place until they carve us up and bury what’s left in a shallow grave.”

Luna was quiet. Still.

And then she whispered, “You’re right.” And it chilled me more than her defiance ever had.

I sighed and turned my gaze toward the floor, unable to hold her eyes.

There was nothing left to say. Nothing I hadn’t already thought a thousand times. I understood Luna’s fear—I felt it too—but I refused to let it show. Instead, I pivoted back toward the barred window, watching the cattle drift like ghosts across the rain-slick pasture.

She’d been here for weeks.

That alone filled my chest with ice.

Still, I was glad she was here.

As frustrating as Luna could be, her presence gave me something to hold onto.

A tether.

A voice.

A bit of humanity in this hell. Even if there were moments, I wanted to throttle her just to silence the panic spiraling through her words.

Luna crouched beside a worn box that passed for a nightstand, flipping through the same water-stained book she’d been pretending to read since early morning. Her long brunette curls, damp with humidity, clung to her face. She dragged a hand through them, smearing away tears with the same motion.

Her ocean-deep eyes brimmed again, and she began to rock slowly—forward and back, forward, and back—an anxious rhythm that only made my own nerves spike higher.

She was unraveling.

And honestly?

So was I.

But I had a little fight left.

Something simmering deep in my gut, even as the pain in my ankles throbbed and the air grew thick with dread. I wouldn’t give up. Not yet.

“This place,” I muttered. “It’s breaking us.”

Aside from being trapped in the middle of nowhere, the worst part was the silence. The unrelenting quiet that seemed to watch us—pressing into our skulls, worming its way into our thoughts. There was no relief. No end in sight. Just the slow, gnawing fear that we’d be forgotten.

My teeth found my bottom lip again, chewing out the tension.

“Don’t chew your mouth to bits,” Luna scolded gently. “You’ll create sores the size of craters. And there’s no balm here to help you.”

She was right. That made it worse. The truth of it all struck harder than I expected, rattling my nerves like glass about to shatter. I raised a hand to my lips and tried to soothe the sting.

The despair was overwhelming. It mixed with the ache in my bloodied ankles, the weight of my chained limbs, the fog in my brain from the drugs he kept slipping into our food or air or maybe even our skin. I was never fully awake, never fully asleep. Time had lost meaning. I’d come here with hope. Now? Hope was something I clung to with numb fingers. A story I told myself to survive.

Still… I couldn’t give in. Because something worse than chains was coming.

Something darker than this room, darker than the drugs or the silence or even death.

The idea that no one knew where I was—that thought clawed at my sanity the most. What if they never found us? What if we simply vanished, reduced to whispers and forgotten names?

“You should sit here,” Luna said, her voice strained. “He’ll be coming soon… with dinner.”

Something in her voice made my stomach tighten.

I turned toward her, hands flying up in exasperation.

“I can’t, Luna. I can’t just sit here, waiting to die and do nothing.”

She flinched. But she held my gaze.

“Who said we’re going to die?”

I laughed bitterly. “Come on. You really think the bastard who chained us to stone walls is going to just… let us go?”

She trembled. I watched her try to still her hands, but the fear shook through her anyway.

“But… you can’t be certain,” she insisted, her voice trembling. “What if he has a farming accident? What if… one of his daughters lets us go? Maybe they’re victims too, like us.”

I stared at her, my laughter dying off. “Luna,” I said softly, “that’s a fairytale. The only way out of here—aside from death—is if a search and rescue team stumbles onto this place. And that’s if they haven’t already given up.”

Luna didn’t answer.

Her silence was louder than any scream.

A few moments later, Luna raised her head and glanced at me—eyes wide, watery, like she regretted the defeat in her earlier words. “Thanks for your negativity,” she muttered.

“Hey, at least I can admit reality,” I snapped.

“Can you at least pretend to be optimistic?”

I nodded, rolling my eyes. “Anything for you,” I said flatly.

Sarcasm clung to my face like a mask. I didn’t mean to be cruel—I just needed a second to breathe, to think. I was trying to remember. Desperately trying to recall if anyone had seen me when I was taken… if someone—anyone—had tried to help.

But my mind came up blank. There was no memory of a witness. No cry. No hand reaching through the dark. And that terrified me more than anything else.

Think, Lulu. Think.

You must’ve seen someone.

You must’ve passed someone before he grabbed you.

I squeezed my eyes shut and searched my mind like I was flipping through torn pages of a book I didn’t want to finish. Then, a face surfaced. Jesse Wood—quarterback, loud laugh, warm eyes.

I remembered our banter in the hallway outside the locker room. He’d joked about my high ponytail looking like a weapon.

I laughed. It felt normal. Safe.

The memory slowed my breathing. But it didn't take long before reality settled back in. Jesse probably hadn’t given that moment a second thought. I wasn’t exactly the girl boys spent their weekends pining over.

No one had seen me on school grounds after that. Not my friends. Not my family. Certainly not Blaine.

Would they even know I was missing now?

Doubt crept in like a cold wind beneath a locked door.

If my friends had looked for me, they’d have checked the library. Maybe assumed I’d gone home early.

Maybe thought I was out with my boyfriend. If they really panicked, they’d probably whisper to one another that I’d run off with someone new.

That hurt the most—because I’d been dating Blaine for three months. Exclusively.

And still, I could picture them brushing off my absence.

That quiet ache turned into something sharper when I thought of him.

Blaine.

My boyfriend.

My violent boyfriend.

Just his name sent a cold tremor up my spine.

He’d accuse me of acting seductive with other guys—especially football players—and his jealousy always ignited like a lit match.

He never understood.

I’m a cheerleader.

Talking to the players is part of the job. Smiling, encouraging, being part of the school spirit machine—it wasn’t flirting.

It was a performance.

But Blaine didn’t believe in performances. He believed in control. And fists.

He’d swallowed every scrap of gossip about me, twisted every conversation, turned every hallway interaction into fuel for his rage. I still felt the bruises. Not on my skin—but somewhere deeper. Somewhere I couldn’t touch.

My parents raised me with rules.

With values. I wasn’t a tease. I wasn’t a cheater. I followed the lines they drew for me.

But none of that mattered to Blaine. His temper erupted daily—like Mount St. Helens, or whatever the name of that volcano was, the one that would not shut up.

It always confused me—how someone could love me one minute and accuse me the next. Why he thought I’d betray him, when I’d never even thought of another boy that way was beyond me.

Why he saw a monster in me… when I was the one afraid of him.

“What are you looking at?” Luna asked, a curious smile curved her lips.

“Nothing in particular.”

“Then what are you thinking about?”

I exhaled hard through my nose.

“Just… my ex-boyfriend. Blaine. Total bastard.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“No,” I said—sharper than I meant. My voice cut the quiet like glass. “He’s not worth my breath.”

“Maybe not. But talking about it might pass the time.”

“Perhaps,” I mumbled, my shoulders sagging.

Luna gave a soft smile, patted the thin mattress beside her, and unfolded a torn blanket with a gesture that almost felt maternal. “You’ll feel better once you face your trauma,” she said gently. “Trust me. You’ll feel ten pounds lighter once all that boyfriend drama spills out.”

“Maybe you’re right,” I said, sliding beside her, though part of me wanted to shrink into the wall and disappear.

“I’m listening, Lulu.”

“I don’t have much to say.”

She leaned closer.

“Can I ask something personal?”

I glanced sideways at her.

“Sure,” I said hesitantly. Since this was the first time we’d strung more than three sentences together, I figured I might as well try being friendly.

“I get it,” she said, voice softening. “I just… want to know. Was it your boyfriend who beat you up? Or the old man who dragged you off the streets of Miami?”

Heat rose to my face. I looked down, ashamed. “Boyfriend,” I whispered.

“Hopefully, you dumped his ass?”

“Our relationship ended that night.”

“Good,” she said firmly, handing me a dirty towel to dry my face. “Now tell me everything.”

I hesitated, then nodded.

“Let me start with the truth. Blaine was possessive. He called me constantly. Wanted to know where I was, who I was with, what I was doing every second of the day. He made me feel like I was on trial all the time.” I paused, biting my lip. “I curse him for putting me in this situation. If he hadn’t screamed at me for talking to Jesse Wood during cheerleading practice, I wouldn’t have stormed out. I wouldn’t have yelled at my mom. I wouldn’t have left the house that night. But Blaine couldn’t control his jealousy, and what should’ve been a stupid little spat turned into World War III.”

“So, you’re saying he was a mean son of a bitch?” Luna offered.

I nodded, wiping my eyes with the towel.

“He didn’t just argue. He hit me. One night, he slapped me—hard—and I ran out of his apartment in terror. I grabbed a cab and went home, hoping my parents would take one look at my face and fix everything.”

“They didn’t?” Luna asked.

“They tried. Mom questioned me for hours—accusing, probing, crying. But it turned into a massive fight. She told me I was grounded until further notice.”

“So… you went back to him?”

I lowered my gaze.

“Yeah. I climbed out my bedroom window like a damn preteen in a romance movie. I thought love could fix everything. That I could fix him.”

Luna shook her head, her eyes sad.

“Lulu…”

“I know,” I said softly. “It was a mistake. I just—I wanted to believe he could change. That he’d realize I was on his side. I thought if I showed him enough patience, enough affection, he’d finally stop seeing me as the enemy.”

I looked around the room, half-afraid the walls were listening.

“I know how that sounds. Delusional. But I’m not stupid. I just… believed. I thought I could teach him to trust me. That if I kept showing up with kindness, he’d eventually do the same.”

Luna didn’t interrupt.

She let me unravel the pieces, gently and silently. “But I didn’t understand how broken he really was. I couldn’t. I’m not a therapist. I didn’t have the tools to fix whatever demons he carried inside.” My voice cracked. “He needed help. Real help. Not the love of a girl who thought compassion could outweigh fists.”

“Nobody has the right to abuse another person,” Luna said firmly. “I’m glad you got away from that brute, even if… this place is just as awful.”

“I’m starting to think captivity is worse,” I muttered, my body rising and walking back to the window, my eyes drifted through the glass to the sky above, where a million stars fought to pierce the curtain of gray, ominous clouds.

I scanned the horizon, absently twisting a lock of my blonde hair around my finger.

My face still throbbed from Blaine’s fists.

The memory clung to my skin like humidity—heavy and unshakable.

“Lulu,” Luna said gently, “living with a man who beats you is far worse than being here.”

“Maybe,” I murmured. “But in all honesty…” My voice trailed off.

“What is it?”

“Well…” I hesitated, thoughts turning jagged. “Has anyone ever hit you so hard you felt like your body might just… implode?”

I didn’t wait for her to answer.

The words had already opened the floodgates.

“In my heart, I hope you’ve never let anyone treat you like that. But if you have…” I swallowed hard. “I pray you fought back harder than I did. Because I didn’t. I froze.”

Luna stood and walked to me, wrapping her arms around my shoulders.

The warmth startled me, but I didn’t pull away.

“Lulu,” she whispered, “I thought those bruises came from here. I didn’t know…” Her voice trembled. “I’m so sorry. For everything you’ve been through. Especially with someone you trusted.”

“Thanks,” I said, blinking hard. “I think I’ll recover. I don’t know when. But I’m not broken. Not completely.”

She rubbed my arms gently, and for a moment, her presence steadied me.

Then I spoke—stronger now, the pain fueling my resolve.

“My boyfriend… Blaine… he hit like a professional boxer. Each blow came faster than the last. He didn’t stop until my body convulsed. I can’t even describe the pain. The first punch was the worst—after that, I went numb. I didn’t feel it when he shoved me across the room like a rag doll. But I remember it. I also remember feeling pathetic. Weak. Worthless.”

“Oh, you poor thing,” Luna whispered, eyes wide with empathy. “How do you feel now?”

“Stronger,” I said with a bitter smile. “More determined. Blaine may have cracked my ribs and bruised my skin, but he didn’t break my spirit. The bruises are fading. And I’m alive. That has to count for something.”

“If you ever want to talk, I’m here. I’m a good listener. I read somewhere—maybe in a magazine—that it helps to talk through trauma. That telling your story takes away its power.”

I nodded slowly and hobbled toward the bed.

Luna followed, and we both sat down on the lumpy mattress.

“Have you ever seen those true crime shows about women who go missing after their partners beat them?” I asked, rubbing my nose.

“All the time,” Luna replied, rubbing my neck.

I stiffened at her touch. The sensation tickled and felt too intimate—too close. I shifted away, not unkindly, but firmly. I caught the flicker of hurt in her eyes but ignored it.

“I’m not trying to be rude,” I said. “I just don’t like being touched.”

She nodded, expression neutral, though something flickered beneath her lashes.

“I mostly watch those shows for the science,” I continued, changing the subject. “I love how far forensic technology has come—DNA, trace evidence, all of it. But I’ve read real horror stories, too. Women beaten to the brink of death, then dumped like garbage in some remote forest or drainage ditch. No one finds them until they’re bones. If ever.”

I paused to see if she was listening.

She was.

So, I went on.

“Thinking about those women makes me angry. And ashamed. Ashamed that I let it get as far as it did. My own mother told me to take the beating as a lesson. A life experience.”

“She what?” Luna’s face twisted in shock.

“She said I’d learn from it.” I shook my head. “She told me to reflect. To use the pain as a warning.”

I laughed bitterly.

“That night, Blaine bloodied my nose. I remember standing in the mirror, seeing my reflection—a swollen lip, dark bruises on my neck, red fingerprints across my wrist. And all I could think was, how did I let this happen to me?”

“You didn’t let it happen, Lulu. He made it happen.”

“I know that now. But back then… I was just ashamed. I ran away from Blaine Raven because I couldn’t face my mother. Or myself.”

Luna gave a slow nod, then reached out again—but stopped herself. “I’m so glad you escaped his wrath.”

“Yes,” I gasped, allowing the smallest smile. “So am I.”

I turned toward the window again. The clouds had thinned slightly, revealing a patch of moonlight that spilled across the floor in silvery bands.

But the peace didn’t last long.

A sharp clank of metal echoed from down the hallway.

Both of us froze.

Luna whispered, “He’s coming.”

“No, he’s not,” I whispered back, relieved.

The sound we’d heard wasn’t our captor after all—just some restless animal prowling outside. 

Maybe a cow. Maybe something else. Either way, the silence that followed wrapped around us like a heavy shroud.

I released a slow breath, shoulders slumping with the weight of momentary peace.

Encouraged by the quiet, I continued.

“Anyway, on the night Blaine hit me, I ran through the streets like a fugitive, lungs burning, vision blurred with rain and fear. I don’t know how long I ran. Eventually, I flagged down a car, which got me close to campus. I stumbled into the courtyard and collapsed right into Jesse Wood’s arms.”

“The football player?” Luna asked, lifting an eyebrow.

I nodded, lips twitching with something close to a smile. “Yeah. Jesse. He was calm and gentle. He wanted to help me—but I was so shaken I lashed out, flailing my arms like a lunatic, shouting at him as if he were the enemy.”

Luna lowered her head, shaking it slowly, then looked up again.

“What’s wrong?” I asked quietly.

“Nothing,” she replied. “Just thinking. Maybe a new man is exactly what you need right now. Someone kind. Protective. The opposite of that sadistic creep. And if he turns out to be anything like Blaine, I swear, I’ll rescue you myself—in a New York minute.”

I snorted. “A new man?” I almost laughed, but it caught in my throat. “God, no. I’m a mess. Jesse doesn’t need that.”

But in truth, the memory of Jesse was soft around the edges—like a dream you want to slip back into. He’d soothed my defensive panic with words I can barely remember now. I only recall the feeling. Safety. Warmth. Something like trust.

Still, I wasn’t convinced.

“Luna, I wouldn’t call Jesse a new boyfriend. Not even close. He’s just… a good guy. Kind. Sweet. God knows why he even looked twice at me. I don’t see what he sees.”

Luna frowned. “Why not? You’re gorgeous. Strong. Smart. Any guy would be lucky to date you.”

I didn’t answer.

She hesitated, biting her lip as though holding something back.

“Just say it,” I prompted. “You can tell me anything. We’re stuck in hell together—your secrets are safe with me.”

She glanced away for a heartbeat.

Then back.

“I was going to say… any girl would be honored to date you, too.”

There it was. A flush crept up her cheeks, and she quickly looked down. I didn’t know what to say, but her vulnerability tugged at something in me.

“I’m sorry,” I said after a moment. “I don’t see it. I’ve never looked at myself that way. Most days, I feel uglier than anything else.”

“Rubbish,” Luna scoffed. “You’re beautiful. Fit. Confident. You move like someone who knows herself. You’re probably the girl most others envy—and don’t even know it.”

I smiled faintly, then whispered,

“But what about Jesse? He’s the only one I… I want. And I’m scared I ruined everything. I was harsh with him. Cold. Treated him like he didn’t matter.”

Luna reached for my hand but stopped short, instead waving dismissively.

“Stop it,” she said, firm but kind. “You’re being too hard on yourself. You were in survival mode. Anyone with a heart would understand that. If Jesse’s half the guy you say he is, he’ll wait. He’ll come back to you.”

I nodded slowly, but a knot of doubt twisted in my stomach.

Just then, the sound returned.

Thump.

A slow, dragging noise from the hallway.

Not an animal this time.

Luna and I locked eyes.

And we knew—this time it was him.

—END OF SAMPLE READ—