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It was silent for a moment before Monroe moved off camera, and the sound of vomiting echoed through the speakers.

“Every year for twenty years,” Jackie muttered and reached across to grab the photo labeled Marigold Taylor—the photo of Goldie. “But not this year.”

“It really was him, wasn’t it?” I asked no one in particular. “She was taken by a fucking serial killer?”

No one answered, because no one wanted to know the answer. Before, it was an abstract concept—a possibility, yes, but unlikely. The Watcher’s MO was to abduct children, not adults. While I had always wondered if it was him, I never knew for sure. Now… now it had to be him. The man taking back the one who got away.

Monroe stayed off camera, presumably bent over a trash can based on the sounds emitting from the computer, and I couldn’t blame him. Everything in me wanted to burst. The cascade of emotion was overwhelming, but mostly I was so fucking angry that Goldie hadn’t told us. Going back to that town automatically put her at risk, and she went back without a care in the world.

That town held the ghosts of her past, and they were ghosts she wanted to face. “Do you think she knew the notes were connected to her parents?”

Fai sighed wearily. “Probably not. She had a Google search alert on the town. Anytime it was talked about in the news, she got an alert. Whoever leaked the notes unknowingly lured Goldie to her fate.”

“What if it wasn’t an accident?” Oliver asked the group.

“Someone tried to get her back on purpose?” I asked.

He nodded. “Think about it. She goes back to the town to investigate the notes. Learns of the murders, even learns for the first time that her parents were killed by a serial killer. She’s desperate to know what happened, so she looks into it. It brings her back to the town, and the first time she’s there—” He paused for a breath and glanced at me. “She’s there alone, and she’s taken. And then suddenly, after twenty years, the Watcher’s killing spree ends. No more children being taken in the night, no more parents being butchered.”

My biggest regret for the rest of my life would be letting her go to that damned town alone. One choice of mine—that stupid fucking choice to kiss her—ruined everything. Took her from everyone she loved and delivered her on a silver platter to a fucking serial killer.

My hand went to my mouth as I thought over my brother’s words. He was right. He had to be. You can only ignore so many coincidences. “But if whoever this is has been planning this,” I interjected, “what do they want with Goldie, and how the fuck do we find her?”

Goldie

Eight visits. I had somehow survived eight long, agonizing visits. But standing in the lingering silence after he left, I didn't know how much longer I could hold on. Each time Father stepped through that door, something fundamental deep inside me splintered. I could feel the hairline fractures spreading across my mind, a delicate lattice of cracks threatening to give way. I was terrified that the next visit would be the one that finally shattered me completely, reducing who I was to dust and bone, scattered in pieces so small I’d never be able to piece myself back together.

Silas wasn’t doing much better. He had begged me to let him take my place, insisting that he could survive the beatings. For a decade, he’d survived them. But I was going to protect that boy until my final breath, the way he always deserved to be protected. Hearing what I’d been through hurt him far more than anything he’d suffered himself, and it was finally enough to make him agree to leave.

He had helped me over the last couple of weeks to widen the hole for the chimney so we could escape. When he first left through the hole all those years ago, he was younger and smaller, able to fit through the existing opening. He was now three years older and broader, and the only way to get him through was to make it wider. We were careful about when we worked, choosing to move slowly rather than draw any attention to us. Not that we even knew if there was any attention to draw.

Our escape plan was simple and wildly dangerous. We had no idea where we were, how far away civilization was, or if our count of the time of year was right. I estimated it was around Christmas, which meant we had to be prepared for the cold. I assumed we were somewhere remote. We could hear no sounds of life down here, and in the weeks spent widening the hole, I hadn’t seen anyone, either. From what I could see through the opening, we were in the middle of the woods, surrounded by towering trees. The lack of people made our work easier, but that meant we would have to travel far for help.

Two weeks ago, I wouldn’t have been as worried. Two weeks ago, I felt healthier. Now, the headaches that had never gone away after my concussion were stronger than ever, nearly immobilizing me. They weren’t getting any better. Silas was hanging on by a thread, too. He was more accustomed to living down here, but the diet of canned beans was obvious in both our lithe frames. We needed as much strength as we could get, and neither of us had much. We were on a time crunch; I could feel it.

Silas looked up at me from the ground, where he was wrapping some of his older clothes around his feet. We had no shoes, no socks, no gloves, and only T-shirts and loose sweatpants to wear. It wasn’t much, but it would have to do to protect us from the cold. “Who goes first?”

I sighed and glanced up at the hole. It was finally wide enough for us to squeeze through… barely. Luckily, it was night, meaning Silas wouldn’t have too many issues with the light just yet. But I had grabbed an extra piece of torn cloth just in case, to tie around his eyes as I led him out. It was rudimentary, but it would work in a pinch.

“I’ll go first to make sure he’s not around.” I didn’t think he was close by. There had to be a reason he only visited on the weekends, though that was a complete guess. But five days gone with two days here was far too close to a traditional workweek setup for me to ignore. “When it’s clear, I’ll help you out next. I’ll need your help boosting me up, anyway.” Silas, while tall, was lean. He had spent his formative years in a fucking dungeon. He couldn’t pull me out, and I prayed to God I could get him out. I wouldn’t leave him behind, no matter what.

He nodded and tied the final knot around his makeshift shoe. He glanced around, and finally up at me. His grey eyes were pleading and full of fear. “Promise me it won’t hurt?”

I had explained the sun exposure issue he had experienced to him over the last few weeks. He didn’t have a great understanding of what light was, but he did seem to understand now that it wasn’t the enemy.

“Is there anything you want to take?” I asked quietly, not naive to the fact that this was the only home he remembered.

He shook his head. “I just want to leave.” His voice was quiet, but his tone was clear.

I took his hands in my own. “You are an incredibly brave boy, Silas. You’ve survived the impossible. You can do this—I promise you, you can do this.”

He nodded softly and let go, taking a step back. “Ready?”

“Ready.” The table was under the hole, with one of the chairs on top. It wasn’t the sturdiest setup, but it would get us through. Silas would have to help boost me through, as the shaft was over seven feet deep—maybe even eight, by my quick estimate.

Buried alive, for all intents and purposes.

Silas climbed up next to me, and I swallowed hard, standing on the chair and maneuvering the top half of my body up and through the hole. I could feel the walls all around me, and my heart rate picked up as the claustrophobia I apparently had kicked in. Not having any memories really sucked when you forgot about stuff like this. I took a deep breath, and then another, and stood up as straight as I could.