Chapter 8

The city faded into the rearview mirror, replaced by the dense, brooding forests of the north.

The Blackwell estate wasn't a home. It was a fortress.

Brooke sat in silence, her finger tapping a rhythm on the black diamond brooch.

Tap-tap. Tap. Tap-tap-tap.

Elliot, who had been staring out the window, stiffened.

He turned his head slowly.

"Stop fidgeting," he said.

"I'm anxious," Brooke said innocently. She tapped again. A coded sequence. Phase one complete. Infiltration successful. Stand by.

Elliot's eyes narrowed. He knew. He recognized the cadence wasn't random.

"It's an antique," he said, his voice tight. "Don't scratch it."

"It's warm," Brooke noted. "For a rock."

"It's your body heat," Elliot lied.

Brooke looked at her phone. No Service.

"My phone is dead," she said. "Must be the trees."

"Must be," Elliot agreed.

He knew she knew. She knew he knew. The air between them crackled with unsaid accusations.

The car turned off the main road onto a gravel track. The suspension groaned.

"Why do you live in the middle of nowhere?" Brooke asked.

"So no one can hear the screaming," Elliot said.

He watched her face, waiting for the fear.

Brooke didn't blink. "Whose screaming? Yours or theirs?"

Elliot chuckled darkly. "Depends on the night."

The car hit a pothole. Brooke was thrown sideways.

Elliot's arm shot out. He caught her by the waist, steadying her before she hit the door.

His reflexes were inhuman. Too fast.

Brooke looked at his arm. The muscle was rock hard.

"You have good reflexes," she said. "For a drunk."

Elliot released her instantly. "I played varsity lacrosse."

"Lacrosse doesn't teach you to block a body check in a moving vehicle," Brooke said.

"You ask too many questions," Elliot snapped. He pulled a fresh pack of cigarettes from his pocket.

The trees cleared.

Blackwell Manor loomed ahead. It was a gothic nightmare of grey stone and turrets, surrounded by a twelve-foot wall topped with razor wire.

Guards with assault rifles patrolled the perimeter.

"Welcome home," Elliot said dryly. "Try not to get shot."