Page 201 of Dark Night of the Soul

And completely, impossibly gone for him.

The two days had been a blur of logistics I wasn’t allowed to help with. Ludwig packing weapons like he was preparing for war. Ulrich mapping routes with the intensity of someone planning a moon landing. Kincade coordinating with Silas in low voices I wasn’t meant to overhear.

I’d tried to help. Been politely redirected. Repeatedly.

And then Silas appeared like a ghost in the night with an envelope for me. My passport, a spare credit card, my favorite lip balm, which had Grace written all over it. Like someone had reached into the life I’d left behind and handed me proof it was still mine.

Silas had provided passports for the others, too, like he kept a guy for that in his hip pocket.

Who was I kidding? He probably did. The network was connected and vast.

It was well past midnight when I stood in the doorway of the courtyard for the last time, listening to the fountain’s murmur and memorizing the way the string lights made the flagstone glow. This was the place where everything changed again—where I reconnected with my mother, where he confessed, and where I realized I could survive the next turning of the world.

He was behind me—I knew he was—still as a shadow, giving me one last breath of a place where I could hide.

I turned away at last.

“I’m ready,” I said.

And when I did, he held out his hand to me. I took it and together, we walked out of the villa for the last time.

Four months had passed since I was taken from the manor. It had been summer. Now autumn was making a serious argument for winter.

I sat in the backseat of the sedan, hands in my lap, about to vibrate out of my skin. Kincade sat beside me doing his rugged, I’m-too-cool-to-be-nervous thing. Ludwig drove. Ulrich rode shotgun.

We’d flown into Bristol, made it through customs with no issues, and were now making the drive toward the manor as the sun came up. The morning was clear and cold. At least it wasn’t raining.

Ludwig made the last turn and ahead, I saw the gates. New iron ones with a giant W in the center. My mouth went dry, my heart pounding like it wanted out.

Next to me, Kincade reached for my hand. He didn’t say anything. Didn’t even look at me. Quiet comfort he’d become so good at.

There was a callbox at the gate. Ludwig pushed the button.

A deep male voice answered, “Cleared for entry.”

Like it had been planned. Like we were expected.

We were.

It had Silas’s fingerprints all over it.

Ludwig drove through. Gravel crunched under the tires.

And then I said, “Stop the car.”

He did. I was out before he even put it in park. If I was going to live behind guards, then I wanted to know who was holding the line.

I walked with purpose back toward the guard shack. Behind me, doors opened and shut. I didn’t have to look to know Kincade was a few steps behind me.

His M.O.

At the shack, I paused at the open door. The man inside didn’t hide his surprise when he saw me.

He was tall like the others—seriously, was it a prerequisite to be six-foot-plus?—with a youthful face and bright green eyes. His blond hair was cropped short. He wore a black coat with a W embroidered on the chest—the same style as the one on the gate. Like this place had uniforms now.

Silas thought of everything, didn’t he?

“Hi,” I said, with a nod.