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Vera attempted to move. Her body resisted. Felt too heavy.

Wake up! Move!

She opened her eyes wider and tried to move her head. It felt like a bowling ball. She forced it to turn so she could look around.

Eve.Her attention settled on her sister’s profile. Some sort of light sat on the ground, providing just enough illumination for Vera to see her sister’s face ... to see this place ...

Thecave.They were in the damned cave on the farm.

Eve lay on the raised ledge where they had placed their stepmother’s body what felt like a million years ago. A darker form hovered over Eve.

Patrick.Solomon’s grandson.

Adrenaline shot through Vera, and she sat up as if she’d risen from the dead—her movements disjointed. Determination and an unparalleled urgency roared through her.

He was here ... with them ... torture ...

Fuck!

A scream ruptured the dank air. Eve’s head whipped from side to side in agony.

Vera went completely still ... even her heart seemed to stop. But her eyes widened to see more clearly. Her pulse raced ... heart pounded ... blood rushing through her veins screamed in her ears.

The Messenger always secured his victim’s hands and feet in some manner. And then he made each carefully planned incision in just the right place to exact the most pain.

The remaining layer of fog in Vera’s brain cleared. Rage fired through her limbs, giving them the power to move. Her wrists were bound behind her back. She tried to move her feet, but they were fastened together as well. She peered at them.Rope.He’d evidently run out of zip ties. She twisted her hands and wrists, allowing the movement to reopen the injuries caused by the straight razor Eve had used to cut her loose in the van. She needed the blood to seep down and help with her escape now. She twisted her feet and ankles, tugged with all she had to loosen the bonds. She would get loose ...

The bastard should have started with her. Big mistake.

The burn in her hands and her sister’s cries only made her work at twisting and tugging harder until first one, then the other hand slipped loose. She lifted her feet and drew them back toward her torso. Fingers fumbling, she didn’t relent until the bindings at her ankles went slack. She tugged the rope free, then she rocked onto her feet in a crouched position, using her hands for balance. Eve’s tormented moaning covered any noise she made.

She was going to kill this son of a bitch.

Vera pushed upward. Swayed a little. Caught herself.

She glanced around for a weapon. The cold blade burned against the skin of her ankle. She needed something more substantial.

Something ... like a rock. Her gaze landed on one about the size of a baseball, more oblong than round.

The pounding of her heart thudded in her brain as Vera watched Patrick stoop over her sister. She bent down, closed her fingers on the rock, and picked it up. She weighed it ... tightened her grip. She was going to bash his head in.

She took a step toward him.Be quiet. Be quiet.Then another. Her pulse and heart rate rose with each one.

Just a little closer.

He abruptly wheeled around, the knife in his hand bloody. “Well, well, you’re awake.” He laughed. “Ready to join the party, birthday girl?”

A new rush of fury crowded in on her. “Can’t wait.”

He lunged. Vera stepped to the right and twisted around, slamming the rock into his shoulder.

He hit the ground. One grappling hand grabbed at her, took her with him. The fall onto the unforgiving stony surface jarred her to the bone. A gasp escaped her.

He rolled upward. She threw up her left arm just in time to deflect his knife. The blade sliced through flesh. Stinging pain flashed. She growled and smashed the rock into him again, aiming for his head. The contact with his skull vibrated along her arm.

He howled and toppled over.

A smile tugged at her lips even as pain scorched through her.