by Trisha Wolfe
I trust him.
He found me by putting the puzzle pieces together. So that’s how I’ll find him. This agent and any official working the Sullivan manhunt are my new best friends.
“London?” the agent gains my notice, pressing the question.
I turn toward the fire. “Yes, I witnessed the murder. I have your answers.”
After a charged minute, he asks in a more subdued tone, “Is there anyone I can call for you?”
Normally, that question would provoke me. A painful reminder of how alone I am. But being alone and lonely, as I once expressed to my patient, are two different things. I no longer choose to be alone, and the person I need is out there. Waiting for me.
I look at the FBI agent. “Yes. Call the press. I have an announcement to make.”
Dig them up.
He’s not my father.
Lessons that I must put into action, or else the rest of the answers will never be unlocked.
Now I know where I belong.
31
Thereafter
Grayson
If hell had a point of entry, it would be Mize, Mississippi.
I crank the AC and towel off the sweat from the back of my neck, disgusted with the heat. Then I turn up the volume so I can hear her voice over the blast of the vents. Twenty-four hours after her rescue, London is giving a press speech to the media.
My finger traces the delicate curve of her face, the flatscreen a poor substitution for her soft skin. I drop my hand. It curls into a fist on my thigh.
“Though this announcement weighs heavily on my heart, I cannot bear its burden for one more day,” London says into a microphone. The flash of cameras doesn’t faze her. She’s a born actress for this world.
I smirk as I settle on the sofa of my RV. To everyone else, Dr. Noble is a truly burdened soul. A survivor. A hero. To me, she’s a dark goddess that should be feared.
“During the long and trying hours of my captivity, I suffered a mental collapse. Breakdown—no longer recognized by my colleagues or me—is the only way I can describe what transpired.” She pauses to look at the floor. So demure. “Due to the duress, repressed memories have been recovered of the man who abducted me.”
A thrill buzzes through me. As the attack of the reporters rises, questions shouted in unison, I leap off the couch, unable to contain my excitement.
Trust.
It’s as new for me as it is for London.
With great difficulty, I leave the RV. Her voice lingers in the background, calling to me, but I pull away from it, knowing that it’s only a matter of time until we’re together now.
The dilapidated house sits on an acre of dead land. Corn husks litter the front yard. Cracked paint peels along the siding. A broken bay window hints to a moldy and rundown interior. The guts are here, the foundation, but all that was alive has faded.
London’s childhood home.
I enter, the front door nearly falling off the rusted hinges. The floorboards creak beneath my boots. This was her beginning. Where her memories start.
I have to see the cage.
A padlocked door bars entry to the basement. It’s the only door in the house that remains intact, as if she’s returned periodically to make sure that no one can gain access. I wonder how many times a year she visits this basement, its truths haunting her, fearing discovery.
That fear no longer holds her captive.
I pick the lock easily enough, then pocket it, removing any evidence of her knowledge and involvement. When I pass into the dark and dank tomb, the sight of the bars ratchets my heart rate. It’s beautiful. All gothic wrought iron and medieval. A black prison full of nightmares.
I spend time here, feeling her presence. Making sure there is nothing here to tie her to her father’s crimes. Then I leave behind a clue only she will understand before I return to the RV.
The good authorities will be here soon. Digging and excavating. Unearthing the girls and London’s dark secrets.
Now that she’s free, I can be patient. I’m willing to be any and all that she needs. I’ve left her clues, pieces of my puzzle. My story will unravel the truth for her.
She’ll find me.
No, ours is not a love story. Ours comes with a warning.
And it’s not over yet.
Of course, no one heeds warnings. If ours began with a beware, my story begins with a threat.
Do not enter.
I was spawned in hell itself.
London and Grayson’s story will continue in Born, Madly, the second installment of the Darkly, Madly Duet, coming soon. Get a release notification sent right to your inbox by signing up for Trisha Wolfe’s newsletter.
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Here’s a special sneak peek at the cover to Born, Madly!
Sadie Bonds appeared in Born, Darkly as London’s colleague and college friend. You can follow her dark and twisted journey on the hunt for a serial killer in the first Broken Bonds novel, With Visions of Red.
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With Visions of Red is FREE at all eBooks retailers. Find it here!
Also by Trisha Wolfe
Broken Bonds Series
With Visions of Red
With Ties that Bind
Derision
Darkly, Madly Duet
Born, Darkly
Born, Madly
Living Heartwood Novels
The Darkest Part
Losing Track
Fading Out
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Standalone Novels & Boxsets
Acknowledgments
Thank you to:
My amazingly talented critique partner and friend, P.T. Michelle, for reading so quickly, giving me much needed pep talks and advice, wonderful notes, and for your friendship.
My super human beta readers, who read on the fly and offer so much encouragement. I could not write books without your brilliance. Honestly, you are my girls! Melissa & Michell (My M&M’s), and also Debbie for reading quickly to give me helpful insight as always. All the Wolfe Club girls for reading the ARC and offering their help and support to shape this book. I really can’t express how much you all mean to me—just know that I couldn’t do this without you.
A special shout out to the girls who keep me sane in the Wolfe Club, where it’s perfectly acceptable to be anything but ;) You girls are the best. You make me laugh, keep me motivated, and offer so much support, you have no idea. I adore every single one of you. And a special thank you to my readers group The Lair for your awesome support.
Another special thank you to Gemma James and Annika Martin - two of my favorite authors (seriously, dying of envy over here!) for your encouragement and reading an early copy to provide feedback. You are rockstars!
To all the authors out there who share and give shouts outs. You know who you are, and you are amazing.
To my family. My son, Blue, who is my inspiration, thank you for being you. I love you. And my husband, Daniel (my turtle), for your support and owning your title as “the husband” at every book event. To my parents, Debbie and Al, for the emotional support, chocolate, and unconditional love.
Najla Qamber of Najla Qamber Designs, thank you so much for not just creating this stunning, take-my-breath-away cover, but for also rocking so hard! You are so much fun to worth with; you took the stress right out of the very stressful task of series cover creation, and I cannot wait to work with you again on future projects. This cover is everything I envisioned and more.
There are many, oh, so many people who I have to thank, who have been right beside me during this journey, and who will continue to be there, but I know I can’t thank everyone here, the list would go on and on! So just know that I love you dearly. You know who you are, and I wouldn’t be here without your support. Thank you so much.
To my readers, you have no idea how much I value and love each and every one of you. If it wasn’t for you, none of this could be possible. As cliché as that sounds, I mean it from the bottom of my black heart; I adore you, and hope to always publi
sh books that make you feel.
I owe everything to God, thank you for everything.
About the Author
From an early age, Trisha Wolfe dreamed up fictional worlds and characters and was accused of talking to herself. Today, she lives in South Carolina with her family and writes full time, using her fictional worlds as an excuse to continue talking to herself. Get updates on future releases at http://www.trishawolfe.com/
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