Page 25

“It’s okay. Take all the time you need.”

With tender care, I held her for several more minutes. Once the sobs that wracked her body subsided, and she was reduced to light sniffles, I pulled her to her feet. My touch was light as a feather against her trembling form.

She rose from the debris. I held her there, letting her recalibrate and come back fully.

“What do you say we get out of here? Let’s get you away from all this.”

“Yeah, that would be nice.” She inhaled deeply against my body, breathing me in.

I guided her toward the door, keeping my hand steady at her back as we moved through the corridor. The walls seemed to press in the further we went down the narrow stretch. She was shaking, and her body stayed close to mine. There was a subtle hesitation that lingered in her steps even as she kept moving forward and down the massive staircase.

I’d studied the layout before coming back in. Knew where everything led. Knew what was still ahead of us. A thin line of light cut through the darkness up ahead, slipping through the bottom of a door.

I slowed as we approached it, relief threading through me at the sight. Fresh air and an exit waiting for us. I turned her gently, cupping her face and getting her full attention before we stepped through.

“This door leads outside. How are we feeling about this next portion of things?”

She didn’t answer right away. Just nodded once. So I opened the door. The change was immediate. Light spilled in around us, soft and golden against the dim interior, carrying with it the scent of water and earth.

The air felt different out here—cleaner, easier to breathe. But the tension didn’t leave her. If anything, it sharpened. Her hand tightened in mine as we stepped out onto the worn stone path, her gaze lifting slowly, taking it in piece by piece.

The space was overgrown and expansive. Woods surrounded the back half of the mansion. The yard had seen better days. It was as neglected as the rest of the house. A swing set stood off to the left, rust creeping along the chains, the seats hanging still in the quiet.

Beyond it, the lake stretched out. And near the water there was an enormous tree. Weathered but still full of life. The leaves rustled in the wind.

“That’s… That’s where Winter used to go.”

I followed her line of sight to the swings.

“She loved to swing,” Isabella continued, the words coming slower now. “She’d stay on it the entire time we were outside most days.”

A breath hitched in her chest.

“And the lake—” She swallowed, her gaze shifting, locking onto the water. “Tori almost drowned there once. We had to watch…”

I felt it shift before I saw it. The way her breathing changed. It grew shallow and completely uneven. Her attention darted, no longer focused on one thing but everything all at once, like the past had layered itself over the present and she couldn’t separate the two.

“I used to sit over there,” she said, pointing toward the base of the tree. “Draw in the dirt. Anything to keep my hands busy so I didn’t—”

She cut herself off, pulling away from me. I let her go, but stayed close enough to catch her if I needed to. She crouched near the roots, brushing her fingers through the soil, searching for something.

Her face lit up. In her hand was a thin piece of wood, worn smooth at one end. A stick. She stared at it, her fingers curling around it slowly, her shoulders rising with each breath that came faster than the last.

“I used this. Every day. I—”

Her words broke. Then she turned and gasped. My eyes trailed over the yard, and I stopped short. Goosebumps rose on my arms. Further out, half-hidden by time and neglect, a carousel sat frozen in place. The paint had long since faded, chipped away by years of exposure.

A swan. A seahorse. A white rabbit. And a fox.

She rushed forward and then dropped to her knees before the white rabbit. I remained by her side, waiting as she took it in. It didn’t take a genius to know that there was one animal for each of them, and hers was the one she reached for.

The minute her fingers touched the ear, her body jolted. The next inhale caught halfway before releasing in a rush that didn’t quite complete itself. Three more short inhales, and that was it. I stepped in.

“Bella.”

Her name didn’t quite reach her. Her focus had already fractured, her breathing turned erratic, her body pulling tighter into itself like it was trying to contain the memories. To stop them before they could fully form.

I dropped down in front of her and brought her face up. “Look at me.”