I could hear the rushing sound of the swollen river nearby.

The rain fell in sheets now, drumming against the canopy of leaves above us.

“We have to reach the conservatory,” I muttered, wiping the water from my eyes.

Why had my mother told me to go there?

She had lived a hidden life, moving us from town to town every few years.

She always said she was protecting me from her past.

But she never told me her past involved the Draven syndicate.

She never told me she knew Elena Draven.

Bishop trotted beside me, his nose to the ground.

He was guiding me through the dark.

He did not bark.

He did not whimper.

He was a silent guardian, just as he had been for Elena.

Suddenly, Bishop stopped.

He pressed his heavy shoulder against my leg, forcing me to halt.

His ears went flat against his skull.

I held my breath, listening.

Through the sound of the rain, I heard the squelch of footsteps in the mud.

They were not behind us.

They were in front of us.

A flashlight beam cut through the dark.