A thrill buzzes through me. As the attack of the reporters rises, questions shouted in unison, I leap off the couch, unable to contain my excitement.
Trust.
It’s as new for me as it is for London.
With great difficulty, I leave the RV. Her voice lingers in the background, calling to me, but I pull away from it, knowing that it’s only a matter of time until we’re together now.
The dilapidated house sits on an acre of dead land. Corn husks litter the front yard. Cracked paint peels along the siding. A broken bay window hints to a moldy and rundown interior. The guts are here, the foundation, but all that was alive has faded.
London’s childhood home.
I enter, the front door nearly falling off the rusted hinges. The floorboards creak beneath my boots. This was her beginning. Where her memories start.
I have to see the cage.
A padlocked door bars entry to the basement. It’s the only door in the house that remains intact, as if she’s returned periodically to make sure that no one can gain access. I wonder how many times a year she visits this basement, its truths haunting her, fearing discovery.
That fear no longer holds her captive.
I pick the lock easily enough, then pocket it, removing any evidence of her knowledge and involvement. When I pass into the dark and dank tomb, the sight of the bars ratchets my heart rate. It’s beautiful. All gothic wrought iron and medieval. A black prison full of nightmares.
I spend time here, feeling her presence. Making sure there is nothing here to tie her to her father’s crimes. Then I leave behind a clue only she will understand before I return to the RV.
The good authorities will be here soon. Digging and excavating. Unearthing the girls and London’s dark secrets.
Now that she’s free, I can be patient. I’m willing to be any and all that she needs. I’ve left her clues, pieces of my puzzle. My story will unravel the truth for her.
She’ll find me.
No, ours is not a love story. Ours comes with a warning.
And it’s not over yet.
Of course, no one heeds warnings. If ours began with a beware, my story begins with a threat.
Do not enter.
I was spawned in hell itself.
London and Grayson’s story will continue in Born, Madly, the second installment of the Darkly, Madly Duet, coming soon. Get a release notification sent right to your inbox by signing up for Trisha Wolfe’s newsletter.
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