Her distance.
Her fear.
Her fierce, hidden love.
I see my mother not as the silent shadow at my father’s side, but as a woman whose heart has been caged for decades, still beating, still fighting.
And I know my answer.
“I’ll find them,” I promise.
Tears spill down her cheeks. She pulls me into a tight embrace, as though she’s afraid I’ll disappear before she can let go.
“My brave boy,” she whispers into my shoulder. “My only hope.”
I close my eyes and hold her tighter.
But even in this moment of fragile connection, a cold thought creeps into the back of my mind.
What will he do if he discovers that I’m no longer loyal?
That I’m planning to take something back from him?
That tonight, a rebellion began beneath the moonlit glass, quiet, powerful, and completely and utterly unstoppable.
Chapter 33
PENELOPE
Dolly doesn’t look back as she pulls me deeper into the dim hallway, her bare feet whispering against the cold stone. My own steps feel clumsy by comparison, loud, disoriented, panicked. But she holds tight to my wrist, guiding me with a determined urgency that refuses to let me fall behind.
We turn down another corridor, and I follow blindly, never having been in this part of the manor before, but Dolly clearly knows exactly where she’s going. The sconces here are unlit, the air colder, the walls sweating with age. The deeper we move, the more something primal inside me recoils.
“This way,” she whispers, her voice is barely sound, a shape on her mouth more than a noise.
She stops at an unremarkable wooden door. A cleaning cupboard, or it would look like one to anyone else.
“What is this?” I question, peering at the hinges, old and rusty, the metal ring handle worn.
“Not what it looks like.” She glances back, checking the hall behind us. “No one comes down here.”
Dolly pulls the handle, and the door opens with a breath-like creak, revealing not mops or buckets, but a narrow stone passage spiralling downward into even deeper darkness. The air that rises from below is cold enough to sting my throat.
My pulse flutters, and I think of Billy again, my heart recoils at the thought of leaving him, “I… I don’t know if I can-”
“You can.” Dolly’s grip on my wrist tightens, the curve of her long nails sinking beneath my skin. “You have to.” Her dark blue eyes flick to my stomach, softening just for a moment. “Especially now.”
The thought of Milus's hands anywhere near my child makes something hot and violent twist inside me.
Dolly steps onto the first stone stair, tugging me along.
The descent is claustrophobic, the walls close enough that my shoulders nearly graze them, and the air grows colder with each step. The stone beneath my feet is slick, worn smooth by generations of hidden footsteps. My free hand clenches against my chest, trying to steady my breathing.
After what feels like an eternity, the stairs empty into a tunnel so vast I can’t see the end of it. I gasp, suddenly finding ourselves in this huge wide open mouth of unknown. It stretches out in both directions, long corridors carved into the bedrock, supported by wooden beams, lit only by faint cracks in the ceiling where house light filters through earth and stone.
Dolly gives a humourless smile, her eyes lifting to mine. “Do you know anything about the history of Raven Ridge Manor?” I’m shaking my head before she even finishes her sentence. “Didn’t think Billy would have bothered, he doesn’t really care about the family feud.”
My mouth opens into a ‘O’ shape, about to ask what that means, but Dolly’s dragging me along again, taking us down the long tunnel.
