Page 44 of The Sinner's Bargain

I scrubbed my face with both hands and reminded myself it was too early to be so deep in these thoughts. I needed sleep.

To force the process, I flopped onto my side and squeezed my eyes shut. I willed my thoughts to calm even as I found myself pulling up images of Lacroix in the office with his hair down and his face focused. He’d looked so handsome in the soft light. The jagged scars cutting the side of his cheek only intensified the rugged aura he gave off without trying. They may have bothered other women, but I was fascinated. If I had the nerve, I would ask him who had gotten that close to him. I would ask if they were dead.

I hoped so.

My second tumble back had me blinking rapidly to adjust my vision.

It was dark.

Again.

The smell of must and age collected in the air and settled over the hazy dream already fading from memory. My muffled brain reached for the tickle at the back of my mind, the itch you get when something isn’t right.

The light was off.

I knew I had left it on.

I had flipped the switch.

I had seen the bulb flare on.

Had stared at the glow until sleep had retaken me.

Had it burned out?

The eerie stillness swaddled in a serrated chill prickled deep in my soul, a tugging that made my stomach seize.

Someone was in the dark with me.

I could feel their eyes fixed on my paralyzed form. Right between my shoulder blades.

I bit my lip and willed myself not to move. Whoever ... whatever it was, was waiting.

Waiting for my breathing to change.

For my eyes to open.

For my limbs to twitch.

I tried to remember the room, the layout of the bed. I tried to separate that moment from being left in the linen closet, but the two kept twisting together and I couldn’t think.

I’m not in the box.

Mother isn’t outside with the rod.

I haven’t done anything to be punished.

I drew in a slow breath. Then another.

I’m in bed.

I’m at Lacroix House.

I’m not alone.

A new terror gripped me. I had never been afraid of monsters under my bed. My monster growing up had always been Mother. She had been the footsteps on the stairs, the cutting voice in my head, the violent backhand.

But she wasn’t there now. It was something else.

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