"I was wondering when you'd come."
Evelina didn't breathe.
She didn't move.
She wasn't sure she could move.
The forest around her was quiet—too quiet.
Even the birds had stopped chirping. A light breeze rustled the leaves, but the only other thing stirring was a man standing ten steps in front of her. He was dressed in black, his face concealed by a hood and a shiny silver half-mask that glimmered softly in the moonlight.
"I said," Luther spoke again, slow and even, "I was wondering when you'd come."
Evelina rose slowly from the cover of the tree, her hand drifting toward the dagger at her thigh.
He only spoke again—calm, too calm. "You always did have a knack for following the wrong people into the woods."
The voice.
It was different… a bit raspier. But somehow, it pulled at her memory.
"Turn around," she said in a steady voice. "Turn around and face me."
"You already know who I am," he said, still facing the trees. "You wouldn't have followed me this far otherwise."
