What would she do then? She had exhausted all means of convincing Oliver that he could trust her. Short of letting him taste her blood, she had nothing left. And she wouldn’t allow him to drink her blood, too afraid that he wouldn’t be able to handle it—and this time there would be no guard to watch out for her safety.

By the time they reached the building again and got out of the car, her hands were shaking uncontrollably. Oliver gave her a sideways glance, then took her hand in his. The warmth of his skin was instantly soothing.

“Easy,” he said softly. “I promise you there’s nobody inside.”

She answered him with a hesitant half-smile and held onto his hand, knowing that he was the only ally she had, even though their alliance was shaky at best and could dissolve again as quickly as it had formed.

With tentative steps she walked next to him. When they reached the door to her former prison, Oliver pushed it open and gave her a gentle shove inside. He followed close behind her, his breathing the only thing she could hear.

Her hand searched his in the darkness, and she was glad when he didn’t reject her touch.

“I can’t see anything,” she whispered.

“I don’t want to switch on the light down here where it can be seen from the street. I can guide us through the dark if you tell me where you want to go.”

“To the fourth floor.”

As he led her up the stairs, she tried to block out the shivers that ran up her spine at the thought of what this place represented. She was surprised when she felt Oliver’s hand rub over her arm in a soothing motion.

“Thank you,” she murmured.

“Almost there.”

When they reached the top of the last flight of stairs, she heard a light switch being flipped. A moment later, the dim lights in the hallway came on, helping her find her bearings. Instantly, she looked at him.

“Is it safe to have the light on now?”

He nodded. “There are only two windows in the corridor and both are blacked out.”

Relieved, Ursula pointed toward the other end of the hallway. “That’s where the fire escape is that I used.” Then she turned in the other direction. “The room is that way.”

Her pace slowed as she walked past the many doors that led to the rooms of the other girls. So many times, she’d heard sobs coming from them. But tonight, silence descended on the entire floor. Despite walking slowly, she finally reached the door to her former prison cell. She laid her hand on the door knob, but couldn’t find the strength to push it open.

Frozen in place, she closed her eyes.

“We’ll do it together,” Oliver murmured behind her and put his hand over hers, turning the doorknob.

When the door opened inward, she took a hesitant step forward and reached for the light switch, flipping it. Then her eyes scanned the small room. It was empty, just like the rest of the house. How many hours had she spent in here, hoping and praying to be rescued?

“There was a bed here. They shackled me to it during the day so I couldn’t move.” She pointed to one corner where a wooden beam was exposed. The lower half of it had always been hidden by her headboard, but now it was visible.

She walked to it and heard Oliver’s footsteps behind her as he followed. When she dropped down to the floor, she ran her fingers over the letters she had carved into the surface of the beam. “My name, my parents address, in case somebody found it, so that they could tell them I was here.”

She turned to look at Oliver and noticed him staring at where her fingers were pointing. Then he too ran his hand over the surface of the wood. His eyes locked with hers.

“I’m so sorry.”

If she hadn’t seen his lips move, she would have missed his whispered words.

Surprised at the tenderness in his look, she was unable to move as his face came closer. His lips touched her cheek, pressing a soft kiss on her skin.

Swallowing away the lump in her throat she shifted and pointed to the floor. “It’s down here.”

Oliver backed away to give her space while she pressed on one side of the loose floorboard, thus tilting the other side up so she could grip it and pull it up.

She reached inside, her heart beating into her throat, praying that her captors hadn’t discovered the compartment that held the stolen wallet. Her fingers touched something smooth, and she breathed a sigh of relief as she pulled out the leather wallet. She handed it to Oliver.

“This is it.”

Oliver opened it, leafing through the cards inside. “Perfect.”

Then he helped her up. “Let’s get out of here. I can see that you feel uncomfortable in here.” He motioned his head to the spot where her bed had once stood. “It must be terrible to return to the place where you’ve been raped.”