The night is thick with tension as Isabelle steps outside, following the noise she heard. The estate feels eerily alive, as if something unseen is watching her.
Then, she sees them. Fresh paw prints in the wet mud-leading toward the lake.
Her pulse races. Max has been missing for weeks. How could his paw prints be here?
She follows them past the lake, deeper into the garden, until she reaches an abandoned shed hidden among the trees Isabelle carefully pushes the door open, dust swirling in the dim moonlight.
Inside, she finds a tattered dog bed, an empty food bowl, and-her breath
catches–a torn piece of Eleanor’s silk
scarf.
The realization hits her like a punch–Max had been there the night Eleanor died. He saw what happened. And someone had hidden him away to keep that truth buried.
A rustling sound behind her makes her spin. A figure stands in the doorway.
It’s Julian. His face is unreadable, his
hands clenched.
“You’re getting too close, Isabelle,” he murmurs.
Lightning flashes overhead. Is it a
warning? Or a threat?
