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NYSSA

The hallway breathed like something alive.

Something dark…waiting.

I gripped the banister, mapping the steps in my head—the distance to the kitchen bench, the turn of the wood beneath my palm and the empty space in between where there was nothing to catch my fall. Outside, flashlights cut through the darkness, slicing across the windows before moving on.

My pulse thundered.

Fear followed and a memory rose inside me.

Shadows that reached for me from the past.

Hands over my mouth.

Hands holding me down.

Not there.

Not anymore.

Just breathe, Nyssa.

Just breathe.

The toes on my left foot curled against the cold stone floor as the light passed again. Muscles in my thigh cramped tight, screaming for me to move.

I didn’t.

I couldn’t.

I just froze, dragging my focus from the window to the gap to where the bannister ended—to the place where I could stumble if I wasn’t careful. The kitchen bench waited just beyond it. Solid. Safe. Beckoning me forward, even if I wasn’t yet used to feeling safe.

This place was supposed to be a fortress.

A dark, chaotic one—but still a fortress.

A house filled with women who’d escaped the Order. Women like me.

Light shone through the trees outside. We were protected day and night. Armed men patrolled the grounds—London’s men. Vivienne’s rules. We trusted her. Because she was one of us. One who was sold and used…until she was saved. Now, we were all meant to be saved.

Shadows shifted. Figures passed the glass—men with weapons, scanning the trees.

Watching.

Waiting.

And for a moment—just a moment⁠—

I didn’t know if they were protecting us…or making sure we never left.

That heavy sinking feeling swallowed me, making the crooked thumb on my right hand twitch. I forced myself to move, releasing my hand and stepped. The edge. I focused as the crack of a two-way came from outside.

Then.

Thud.