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I don’t know where his spirit is. Sometimes I imagine him wandering, searching for something familiar in a place that isn’t.

Maybe I’m not built for independence after all. Even now, I keep waiting for someone to tell me what comes next. My parents pointed me in every direction they wanted me to go. The Boltons do the same, only with softer voices.

I stop at the edge of the woods. The energy changes in there. The tree line looks thicker up close, the darkness between the branches swallowing the last of the light.

A warning tingles along my arms.

I glance behind me. A few people are trickling out of the church, looking my way as if I’m interesting. Nothing to explain the sudden jump in my pulse, though.

Their eyes push me farther, just to get away. I keep moving until the grass turns to dirt. Low branches brush across my shoulders, and leaves skim my cheeks like cautious hands. After years shut indoors, the woods feel almost merciful, a place where I might breathe without expectations.

Then leaves rustle deeper in the trees.

I stop.

Silence.

A twig snaps somewhere behind me.

My pulse kicks hard. I turn too fast, breath catching, but all I see are trees and deepening darkness.

Then footsteps.

Coming right for me.

I whip my head around again just in time to catch the outline of someone vanishing past a tree. No face.

I run.

Branches lash my arms as I shove blindly through the brush. One strap of my dress slips down my shoulder. Roots grab at my shoes. My breath turns ragged with panic. My mind leaps to the only explanation that makes sense.

He found me.

My abductor.

I force my legs to move faster. I think the road is ahead, but the woods twist around me in ways I don’t understand. My dress snags on a branch and jerks me back. I rip it free and keep going.

Then I catch another glimpse of him.

He’s taking his time.

That frightens me more.

A man who isn’t in a hurry already knows I won’t escape him.

I burst through the last line of trees and onto the edge of the road, lungs burning, legs shaking.

Below, the river glimmers darkly beneath the fading sky. The tower rises in front of it, reflecting the final scraps of daylight.

I don’t slow down.

Then the ground drops out from under me.

My stomach lurches. My arms fling outward to balance myself. I catch myself at the edge just before I pitch over. Pebbles tumble into the darkness below. The staircase is farther to the right than I thought. I nearly ran straight off the bluff.

I start to turn.

A hand clamps around my throat.