That was where he’d taken her. Until Dash had dragged her from the garage, she’d had the luxury of ignorance. She’d been able to pretend that she was somewhere else—anywhere else. Not at the scene of the crime. After his phone call, Dash had effectively shut down. He’d grabbed her and steered her into the main part of the house, into the awful, familiar maze of halls that had chased her in her nightmares. A part of her had wondered, then, if anything after Tanner’s death had been real. Or if she’d actually died that night, and this was the purgatory to which she’d been sentenced. Perhaps there was a god after all, and this was her punishment for having abandoned the faith. Yet Serenity had known on some level where she was. The bikes in the garage, the Lucifer’s Legion insignia—yes, it had been obvious. But fuck, she wished it wasn’t. She wished so many things. Dash had dragged her down a corridor she hadn’t explored and all but shoved her into a dark room. He’d slammed the door shut before she’d been able to protest—him on the other side, and the definitive click of a lock betrayed that escape wasn’t on the menu.
