Page 178 of Dance of Deception

…And they’re postmarked just three weeks ago.

I lurch to my feet.

That’s where they are.

And I’ve already wasted too much fucking time.

39

LYRA

I stopped fighting a while ago.

Every bump and jolt in the van jars my bones. My wrists are raw, chafing against the ropes binding them behind my back. The gag cuts into the corners of my mouth, the damp fabric suffocating.

I have no idea how long we’ve been driving since Vera stuck a gun in my face and forced me downstairs into the van parked behind the apartment building.

She hasn’t said a word since she shut the van door. It’s that silence that’s worse than anything.

The not understanding.

I flinch as the van suddenly jerks to a stop and the engine shuts off.

Terror curls through me as a car door opens and then slams shut. Boots scrape against the ground. Next is the click of the back door unlocking.

Light from a phone flashlight floods in, temporarily blinding me.

I squeeze my eyes shut against it, breathing through my nose, my chest rising and falling in frantic, shallow gasps.

Panic explodes through me as Vera grabs the ropes behind my back and yanks me out of the van. My bound wrists keep me from catching myself as I fall to the ground, my knees hitting dirt and gravel.

Pain screams up my legs, but it’s nothing compared to what I feel when I finally lift my head and see where we are.

No.

The house looms in front of me, a blackened scar against the night. The porch sags a bit, and the windows are gaping holes, eyes that’ve been gouged out.

This is the place from my nightmares.

My throat constricts. My lungs seize up.

I can’t breathe.

I start to hyperventilate, dragging ragged breaths through the gag in my mouth. But only thin wisps of air filter in, and black spots begin to swim at the edges of my vision.

My eyes bulge. My chest screams desperately for oxygen.

Finally, Vera marches over and yanks the gag out of my mouth. I choke and sputter, sucking in raw, gasping breaths of air.

“Mom!” I choke, still wheezing as I look up at her in horror. “What is this?!”

Vera doesn’t respond. She just hauls me to my feet, shoving me forward. My legs barely hold me up, but it’s clear I have no choice but to keep moving.

I glance around us. The forest seems to have grown closer to the house than I remember. The three neighboring houses on the street are all boarded up and look foreclosed on.

As if anyone would want to live here, in the shadow ofthiscursed house.

“Mom, please,” I beg, my voice breaking. “Why are you?—”

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