Panic bubbles in my chest as my body sticks to the leather on Tristian’s back. I had forgotten how far into the woods his home lies. Our town isn’t large but the county is huge. There are miles upon miles of nothing but uninhabited woodland. The trees wind around us as the road curves, going from pavement, to gravel, eventually turning to dirt. I am officially in the middle of nowhere. After miles of nothing, we finally reach our destination. Vandacamp Castle, now known as a mansion, comes into view. My pulse quickens with anxiety. It stands larger than I remembered and no picture I have seen has done it justice. All the curtains are drawn shut. I feel as though the house is screaming ‘Keep Out.’ The cold feeling of being unwelcome sweeps over me. Tristian leaves me standing alone at the daunting front door, while he parks his motorcycle. Ominous, large, dark oak with a heavy brass knocker stands before me. I have this eerie feeling that someone or something is watching me from the other side of the door, waiting for me to enter.
