CHAPTER 13 Beneath the Surface

  Angela's heart thundered in her chest, the echo of her breath hanging in the cold night air as she stared at the figure emerging from the shadows. Every instinct in her screamed to run, but her legs were frozen, as if glued to the damp earth beneath her.

  The figure moved slowly, purposefully, stepping into the moonlight that dappled the stone pathway ahead. Angela squinted, trying to make out the face hidden beneath the hood. It wasn't Edmund. She knew that instantly. The frame was all wrong—taller, broader.

  For a terrifying second, she thought it was Mark.

  But as the figure approached, she could see it was someone she hadn't seen before. A man, late twenties maybe, with piercing eyes that seemed to bore right through her. There was something unsettlingly familiar about his features, though Angela couldn't place it.