flash
The silence in room fourteen was heavy, broken only by the rhythmic strike of rain against the lodge’s cedar siding. Caleb’s body was limp, his breathing shallow. Nora’s fingers moved across his cervical spine with the practiced, terrifying grace of a field surgeon who had worked in dirt and blood. / Chapter 8 / 9

Chapter 9 - The Final StandPreston tried to flee through the woods, but Miriam Blake was waiting for him at his car. She had the drive. She had been recording his panic.

“You’re done, Preston,” she said, holding her phone up. “The state police are already being radioed via satellite.”

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The heavy mahogany door of the east gallery closed softly behind me, but the silence inside did not comfort me. It pressed down like lead.

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The cool marble of the private east gallery felt chilling beneath my fingertips. The pale moonlight streaming through the floor-to-ceiling windows illuminated The Blue Woman, the haunting masterpiece my mother had painted just weeks before her tragic death.

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