Chapter 2

The tires crunched on the gravel track, deeper and deeper into the woods.

The old Davis family hunting cabin in the Appalachians. Miles from anywhere.

Mike shoved me out of the truck.

The air was cold, biting. Fear was a tight knot in my stomach.

He dragged me inside. Dust motes danced in the slivers of light from boarded-up windows. The place smelled of damp wood and decay.

"Sit," he commanded, pointing to a rickety wooden chair in the center of the room.

My legs trembled. I sank onto it.

He produced a coil of rope from his duffel bag. My eyes widened.

"Mike, please. Don't do this."

He ignored me, his movements quick, efficient. He bound my wrists tightly to the arms of the chair, then my ankles to its legs.

The rope bit into my skin.

"Sophia's SATs are this week," he said, his voice devoid of emotion. "Three days. You'll stay here. You'll bleed for her. Cleanse her path."

My heart hammered against my ribs. "Bleed? What do you mean?"

He pulled out his hunting knife. The polished steel glinted menacingly.

"No! Mike, no!" I screamed, struggling against the ropes, but they held fast.

He grabbed my left arm, pushing up my sleeve.

"This is for Sophia's future," he said, almost to himself, like a prayer.

Then he drew the blade across my forearm.

Pain, sharp and searing, shot up my arm.

I cried out, a choked, desperate sound.

Blood welled instantly, dark red, shockingly bright against my pale skin. It began to drip, drip, drip onto the dusty floorboards.

"Stop! Please, Mike, you know what will happen!"

He looked at the blood, a strange satisfaction on his face. "It's starting. The purification."

He stepped back, admiring his work.

"I'm taking Sophia to that Ivy League prep camp. She needs to focus. You'll be here, doing your part."

He walked to the door.

"Don't try anything stupid. No one will hear you out here."

He cast one last look at me, my blood pooling beneath the chair.

Then he was gone.

The heavy door thudded shut, the sound of the bolt sliding home echoing in the terrifying silence.

I was alone. Tied. Bleeding.

The metallic scent of my own blood filled the small, cold cabin.

Each drop was a countdown.