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Only, the canvases are blank. All of them. Save one- a single portrait of me, with my features contorted into a silent, never-ending scream.

It’s signed in a hand I don’t recognize, the style nothing like my own.

A shiver runs through me as I back away from it, while terror settles in my bones.

I need to get out of this house, to breathe air that isn’t tainted by secrets and lies, and God only knows what else.

But what secrets? What lies?

What the hell even are these thoughts?

I palm my face, snagging my hair in the process. It feels frazzled and dry, and I don’t doubt that is down to whatever meds I’ve been taking.

Is it me, or them? Is this paranoia part of my illness? Is this part of whatever awful thing ails me? Or is it Alex, the man I love, the man I – my thoughts seem to falter on that word. Love. Do I love him? Yes, I married him, yes there is something there, but is it actually love that I feel?

That ring around my hand feels like it’s tightening. Reacting. Punishing me for my heartlessness.

Who the fuck am I?

Memories seem to float, ones from my childhood, my mother, my brother, happier times. But I don’t see anything that links me to Alex. Nothing that explains any of this. And yet, I know he is my husband. I know we were engaged, I know that at least isn’t a lie.

My eyes dart back to that awful image, that vision of me caught in a perpetual scream.

I have to get out. I have to get some damned air.

I make my way down a narrow staircase, my footsteps echoing in the silence. This mansion feels like a mausoleum, beautiful and yet lifeless.

What I can’t figure out is how this house feels so alien and yet I can still manage to find my way. It’s like my subconscious knows all the details, it just doesn’t want to reveal that information. No, it wants to hide it away, fold it away, treasure it like a nasty little secret I’m not privy to.

As I reach a side door, with my hand on the handle, relief washes over me. It’s almost like I’ve found the exit from a great maze and beyond it is my prize. All I have to do is walk through and claim it. Claim my salvation.

“Going somewhere, princess?”

The voice stops me in my tracks.

I turn to see Alex’s younger brother, Rafferty, leaning against the banister, his dark eyes taking me in with a mix of amusement and something far more insidious.

I have no idea what he’s even doing in this house. Didn’t he and his family have a falling out? Surely, Alex will lose his shit when he realises he’s here.

He’s the complete antithesis of his brother, the storm cloud to Alex’s clear sky, danger wrapped up in the package of a bad boy who knows all his sins, and yet doesn’t feel a moment of remorse.

The t-shirt and leather jacket he has on hints at tattooed muscle beneath.

His right ear is pierced with a simple black stud.

Even the way he does his hair is like some statement of rebellion.

While Alex is all business, the epitome of a millionaire adonis, Rafe looks like the devil incarnate.

He’d steal your soul and sell you to the highest bidder, and you’d be too entranced by those damn dimples to even realise what was happening.

Alex’s old words repeat in my head; that his brother is a drug dealer, a petty thief, that he’s stolen more than a few family heirlooms before to pay off debts.

“I, I was just going for a walk,” I manage to say, my voice far steadier than I feel.

He pushes off from the banister, stalking toward me with the movement of a predator. Agile. Graceful. Deadly.

The way he runs his eyes over my body makes me shudder. “You’re not even dressed.” He says in a tone that makes me feel completely naked, vulnerable, like I’ve exposed every part of myself to him.

I fold my arms, tightening them around my waist like a piece of armour. I know I’m not technically clothed, but I’m hardly exposing myself. I open my mouth to reply, and he’s quick to cut across me.

“Alexander won’t like it. And I’m not going to be the one to face his wrath if he realises I watched you go…”

“Why should I care what Alex likes?” The words slip out before I can stop them, a spark of defiance in a life that feels like it’s spiralling out of control.

Rafe’s lips curve into a smirk, his gaze raking over me in a way that’s both intimidating and alarmingly exhilarating. “Well, you’re full of surprises today, aren’t you?”

I square my shoulders, meeting his challenge head-on. “I’m not who you think I am.”

“Aren’t you?” he counters, his voice low and velvety. “Because from where I’m standing, you look like a songbird trapped in a pretty little cage. The question is, are you brave enough to try to escape, or will you let them clip your wings?”

I’m so caught up in that hungry look on his face that I don’t realise where his hands are, his fingers. They brush against the tiny amount of skin revealed, right where the fabric folds across my chest.

Fear seizes me. My heart seems to beat and shatter all at once but looking into Rafe’s black eyes, I see a reflection of my own fear.

There’s something I’m not remembering, something important. But what the hell is it?

“Flee, little bird,” He all but whispers, “Flee if you can, but we both know you can’t outrun them…”

Before I can respond, he’s gone, leaving me alone with his words hanging in the air, like a tantalizing glimpse of the truth.

What the fuck did he mean? Clipped wings? Outrun who?

I clench my fists, trying to muster my courage. To get control of myself.

But it also confirms that there is something going on here. That I’m not completely mad. Alex does want to cage me, to contain me. That much at least is certain.

I take a deep breath, steeling myself and push open the door, feeling like this one act of defiance is about to set me on a collision course, and I’m not sure I’m going to enjoy where I end up.

I step outside, the wind whipping my hair around my face, the taste of salt on my lips. If I’d been smart I would have put a coat on, but it’s too late for that now.

The chill sets into my bones immediately, and the thin robe I’m wearing is as good as useless. But I set off at a pace that feels determined. Besides, I can’t turn back now. I can’t.

Ahead I can see the cliffs, it feels like they’re beckoning me, calling me, like they’re the gateway to some mystery world and all I have to do is step out, trust that I won’t fall and I’ll be free. I’ll be safe.

The path is treacherous, but I’m determined to make it.

My bare feet protest against the sharp bits that dig into my soles but I keep going, telling myself that this pain is worth it.

With each step, the fog in my mind begins to clear further, revealing snippets of the past. A party with the most magnificent chandelier, music that seems both familiar and ominous, the feeling of being watched.

And Alex, always Alex, his smile never quite reaching his eyes.

As I near the edge of the cliff, the wind howls around me, a wild thing untamed by wealth or power.

Is that why they chose this island? Is that the appeal?

They wanted a nice little reminder of their own infallibility?

I could almost laugh at the absurdity of that thought.

No, the Forster’s don’t want reminders of their weaknesses.

The Forster’s don’t see themselves as weak or even mortal.

Perhaps that was the point in building their monstrous home here.

To prove that they really are akin to the gods, that they can master even nature, stop the very sea in its tracks…

I close my eyes, breathing it in, and for a moment, I feel almost free.

But freedom feels like an illusion here, a fallacy, a thing I’ll never actually obtain again.

I open my eyes, gazing out at the horizon as I make a vow.

That I will remember.

That I will understand.

And I will fight.

Because this is my life, and I’m done playing the part of the helpless, invalid wife. It’s time to reclaim what’s mine, to unravel the lies and face whatever awful thing happened to me. No matter how dark or twisted it is.