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“You got away,” he threatened in a low voice. It should have been scary, but it wasn’t. This man justified his assault on me as justice for when a little girl managed to hide away from him.

“And I did again,” I taunted. “And I will continue to run away from you. I will always find a way to free myself of you.”

His hands went to my shoulders, gripping me painfully and pushing me into the cement wall. “You think you can get away from me? That I would ever let you get away from me again?”

“Yes.” I didn’t offer an explanation—he didn't need one. He knew as well as I did that there was more fight left in me than in anyone else he’d ever tried to break. Taking me a second time was a fatal mistake on his part, especially after everything his actions had already put me through. He thought he held all the power, but I was stronger than he’d ever be in every way that truly counted.

“You and Silas are mine,” he growled. “You two will never be free of me. You will live and die down here as my little pets who entertain me when I’m bored.”

I opened my mouth to argue when Darren suddenly jolted into me, a crack sounding around us. Darren groaned, letting his grip go on one of my shoulders as he rubbed his head. “What the fuck?” he muttered, just before another crack sounded, Darren dropping down to one knee with a howl.

I could just make out Silas behind him, the room brighter than I had realized. The door must have been open. Silas stood behind Darren, his dark stormy eyes blazing, my bat in his hands.

All three of us were frozen in a daze for just a moment, but as another groan sounded from Darren as he tried to stand up, I pushed him off me and grabbed Silas’s wrist.

“Run.”

Lexington

Oliver and I ran through the woods, following Peter Baker, who was far faster and more nimble than I had expected. He had explained briefly when we first started out what he had done—which was everything he could within the bounds the town had placed him in. Most people didn’t even know his first name, calling him Old Man Baker and writing him off as a man who had lost his mind years ago. A part of me wondered how much the town was responsible for the disparaging view of Peter, and how much Darren was responsible. Even when Darren had described Peter to Goldie and me, he was dismissive and degrading, but wrapped it up in pretty words that made him sound concerned for the man.

Peter wasn’t the babbling idiot Darren had described. He was socially awkward, absolutely, but he was smart. No one was taking him seriously, so he found a way to tell everyone what he knew. He became the elusive Watcher, but not the Watcher of the town everyone had assumed. He was the Watcher of Darren Ransom—the true monster. He also knew the general area where Darren held his victims. It wasn’t an exact location, but within a mile. It gave us a starting point.

Police officers from home were driving out now, from what Oliver had heard during his phone call with Jackie. The sheriff’s office in Cherrytree Hills had been called as well and updated on Darren’s true nature. Well… his suspected nature. It was still all speculation, but deep in my gut, it felt right. It was the same way I knew Goldie was out here. Reinforcements were on the way, but I couldn’t wait a minute more, so off we were, sprinting through the woods in the dead of night, with only the full moon as our guide.

Peter came to an abrupt stop, and I nearly ran into his back, too lost in my own world. Oliver stopped by my side, his breathing as labored as mine. We had to have run at least three miles at a sprinting pace. Under the night sky above us, and with a lack of light at Peter’s insistence, we were running blind and had tripped a dozen times.

“Is this it?” I asked, bending forward, my hands braced on my thighs as I caught my breath.

Peter was quiet and shook his head. He didn’t look at us, his eyes trained on the distance. “Marigold is like her dad. She’s smart, scrappy… unstoppable.”

I didn’t disagree, because he was right, and she was so much more, too. I was more confused as to why we were stopping to talk about Goldie’s dad. Oliver threw me a confused look, but didn’t interrupt, either. Peter was never the clearest, but he did get his point across eventually.

Peter took a deep breath, and then another—each slow and laboring—and on the last exhale, his arm raised, pointing into the distance in front of him. I followed the motion, squinting through the dark trees that towered above us. Every shadow made me jump, not out of fear, but out of hope that it was her—that I had found Goldie and I could take her and run.

I stepped in front of Peter, straining to look where he had directed. I was too distracted to notice that Peter slunk away into the shadows, leaving us behind. Oliver watched curiously. “Where do you think he’s going? Should we follow?”

I raised my hand, urging him to stop, because I could swear I heard something deep within the trees. The sound of rustling grew louder with each second. Holy shit.

I took off in a sprint again, a screamed “Goldie!” tearing from my throat.

I could hear Oliver breaking through the trees behind me, alternating between calling for me and yelling Goldie’s name.

“Lex!” The voice was quiet, off in the distance a bit to my left, but it was my name, and I could have sworn it was her voice. I turned, my rampage through the woods now in her direction.

“Goldie!” I yelled again, straining to hear her reply, and nearly cried when I did.

“Lexington!” she called again, her voice sounding breathy, as though she had been running, too. “Where are you?”

“I’m coming to you!” I called, and pumped my legs harder. My shirt was being torn by the foliage, leaving scratches and cuts on my arms and torso. I felt my jeans trying to give way too, but ignored it all.

Oliver and I crashed through a clearing no bigger than a football field a moment later. The moon lit the grass around us, casting a silvery glow on everything that surrounded us—including a familiar head of hair and face that broke through the trees opposite me.

Goldie stopped for just a moment, but I couldn’t, running to her instantly. Her black hair was matted with sweat and residual rain, her face smeared with dirt, and a nasty bruise was forming on her cheek, but the fire in her eyes was brighter than ever, her anger mixed with palpable fear.

She snapped back to reality, running to me and throwing herself into my arms. I caught her with an oomph, taking a step back to steady us as her body clung to mine.

“You’re okay,” I muttered, holding her tightly. Probably too tightly, but I couldn’t let go.