I wiped blood off my face and walked to my car parked nearby.
Where was Anthea now? Had she eaten? I pulled out my phone, instinct telling me to check her location. Then I stopped. I'd promised her. No more surveillance. I shoved the phone back in my pocket and got in the car.
"Back to the manor," I said.
The car rolled into the night. I leaned back in the seat and closed my eyes. Anthea was gone. But she was alive. That was the best I could hope for.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Anthea
I was finally out of the manor. Standing outside the gates, spring air flooded my lungs, carrying the scent of new leaves. Bright sunlight stung my eyes—or maybe it wasn't the sunlight at all.
Tears streamed down my face. This was what freedom tasted like, so beautiful it felt like a hallucination. I started running. Wind roared past my ears. Each breath confirmed I was alive. I was free. I ran down the tree-lined drive until my legs gave out, then stopped, gripping an old oak, gasping.
I wiped my eyes hard and pulled out my phone. The screen lit up—missed calls and texts flooded in. Julian, my parents, Sarah. Everyone had called a dozen times, sent countless anxious messages. I ordered a ride first, then caught my breath and called my mother back.
She picked up on the first ring.
"Anthea!" Her voice broke. "Thank God you finally answered! Where have you been? We couldn't reach you for almost a week. Your father filed a police report. First they said they couldn't file until forty-eight hours, then when they could, they said they were short-staffed and to wait—you scared us to death."
Hearing her familiar voice nearly broke me again, even though after all these years, I couldn't return to that old dependence and trust.
"Mom, I'm fine." I bit my lip, steadying my voice. "I'm sorry. I went traveling. Lost my phone, just found it today."
"Thank God you're okay." She exhaled. "Julian said he couldn't reach you either. Now that you've got your phone back, let him know you're safe."
"I will."
Mom started to say something else, but Dad took the phone.
"Anthea," his voice was calmer, "you're sure you're alright?"
"I'm really fine. I'm good. I'll be back at work before spring break ends. Don't worry."
"Good." He paused. "If you need anything, call us anytime."
"I know, Dad."
I hung up. The car had arrived. I got in, sat in back. Lying tasted awful. But I couldn't tell them I'd been held captive by the man who'd destroyed my life six years ago.
The car started. I watched shadows blur past the window. I knew I could never go back there. Everything about the manor was too painful—what happened six years ago and what happened six years later.
I pulled my thoughts back, about to call Julian when my phone rang. Sarah.
I answered. Before I could speak, her scream nearly burst my eardrum.
"Oh my God, Anthea, where the hell were you? I've been losing my mind! Do you know how many times I called? I even went to your apartment and knocked—nobody was there."
"I'm sorry, Sarah..." My throat closed. Sarah's worry was real.
"That's it? Just sorry? You better explain." Her voice dropped suddenly. "I thought you'd been kidnapped, or... worse."
I went quiet for a few seconds, then spoke.
"...It was Silas."
"Him?" Sarah sounded confused, then teasing. "What'd he do? He can't have kept you in bed for a week."
