Page 1 of The Last To Know (Hallowed Halls Series #2)

H e’d promised. Sworn the last time would be the last time. He’d lied. The throbbing pain coursing down the right side of her body and the dark bruises under her eye served as vivid proof of the deadly extent of those lies. They stared her in the face just as clearly as the choices she must make.

To stay would all but guarantee death. To leave would mean he’d follow through on his promise to track her down no matter where she went. Even to the ends of the earth. Even though the third choice was unimaginable, it was the only real choice left after all . . .

◆◆◆

Hannah London fought and clawed her way back to consciousness. A scream tore from the space where the nightmare held her hostage, reverberating off the walls in her head. If she stayed there much longer, something she’d feared for years would be revealed. Once the monster came out into the world, the horror he had kept secret couldn’t be returned. The genie would be out of the bottle.

Hannah’s head shot up off the pillow, her pulse racing a mile a minute.

“A dream. Only a dream.” She wasn’t back in Jamestown in that tiny apartment shared with her father, mother, and older brother .

Soon, images took shape through the darkness. Her dresser. Armoire. She was home in Alexandria, Virginia, a short distance from where she worked as part of the BAU, the FBI’s Behavioral Analysis Unit.

Hannah clicked on the lamp next to the bed. Darkness fled. Familiar objects she’d carefully chosen for the room made it easier to believe the nightmare was just that.

She’d had the same dream since she’d almost died at age twelve. Yet, deep down inside where the truth existed, something wouldn’t let her accept the dream as reality.

The clock on her phone proclaimed it was just past two in the morning. Exact time of her transplant. Even after nineteen years Hannah remembered every detail of what led up to getting her new heart.

She’d fought death her entire life. Even at a young age she’d known at some point a transplant would be the only way she’d survive. Still, when it happened, Hannah had felt life leaving her body. At that moment one thing had become clear.

She wanted to live.

Thankfully, a heart had become available. Someone had died so that she could live.

She swung her legs over the side of the bed and slipped into her warmest robe. The January chill had set in around the city, holding it hostage with an icy grip. Spring thaw seemed months away.

And Hannah was scared.

She drifted through the house like a ghost flitting from room to room. At times, she felt like a ghost. Never really engaging with others because of her uncertain future. Surrounded by happy people living happy lives, when hers was lightyears away from theirs.

Every beat of her borrowed heart reminded her time was precious.

Its steady cadence ticked off the truth. She was living on borrowed time.

◆◆◆

Sweat beaded his brow. His hand shook on the shotgun he held. Her screams echoed up the stairs of the basement, piercing his heart.

He reached for the doorknob. His thirteen-year-old mind struggling to understand what was happening. Tears streaming down his face.

“Mom.” Please let her be okay.

He opened the door. His eyes adjusted to the dimness. The truth unfolding wasn’t possible. He couldn’t wrap his head around what was right before him.

There was blood. So much blood.

“Mom!” he screamed and descended the steps.

Her frantic eyes met his. His mother sat on the floor, throat slit. Her body bloody and covered in cuts, but still she tried to protect him.

“Mom.” He hiccupped her name. It took more strength than he knew he possessed to not run back up those steps.

He raised the shotgun.

“Put the weapon down. I can explain.” The person responsible for harming his mother wasn’t a stranger.

Cooper raised the shotgun, resting it against his shoulder like he’d been taught. His finger trembled as he placed it on the trigger.

“Don’t do it.” The knife in the attacker’s hand became larger than life as he held it higher.

Cooper didn’t budge.

The man suddenly charged.

Cooper pulled the trigger. A single shot blasted through the air, striking its target. A loud thud followed. Gunsmoke assailed his senses. Tears blurred his vision.

His mom’s head lolled forward. Even before he reached her side, he knew the truth. She was dead.

An animalistic wail filled the room. Cooper Delaney sat up in bed, his breathing coming hard and fast—like always.

His head screamed he wasn’t that thirteen-year-old boy anymore. He was a grown man who’d done his best to put the horror behind him. Mostly, he’d accomplished this goal. Cooper was a member of the FBI’s Behavioral Analysis Unit. He loved his job. He hadn’t let the past define him.

Yet at night, when he was all alone, the truth refused to remain buried.

The person responsible for harming his mother wasn’t a stranger. It was someone she trusted. Someone Cooper thought he knew better than anyone. Someone he didn’t know at all. His father.