Chapter 1 - SHE SOLD YOU TO THEM
Clara Vale had always known her mother did not love her.
She had simply never imagined that hatred could have a price.
Three silver coins.
That was all.
The storm had rolled down from the Blue Ridge before sunset, swallowing the mountains in sheets of black rain. Wind bent the pines. Mud ran like brown water over the narrow trail. Thunder cracked so close the ground seemed to answer.
Clara stood beneath the broken roof of an abandoned waystation wearing a blue dress soaked nearly black by the rain.
Her mother, Ruth Vale, stood opposite her.
Dry beneath a heavy wool cloak.
Expressionless.
A man waited outside.
Tall.
Broad-shouldered.
Dark coat.
A scar running from his left temple into his beard.
Clara had seen him once before in the market.
People called him Elias Crowe.
The hermit from Black Ridge.
Children were told not to go near his cabin.
Adults lowered their voices when they said his name.
Now he stood in the storm while Clara’s mother counted three silver coins into her palm.
One.
Two.
Three.
Clara stared.
“Mom?”
Ruth closed her fingers around the coins.
Then shoved Clara toward Elias.
Clara stumbled.
“MOM?!”
Her mother did not flinch.
“You were never useful to me.”
The words hit harder than the shove.
Clara’s face broke.
“What are you doing?”
Ruth turned away.
Clara lunged toward her.
Elias caught her wrist.
“No!”
She twisted violently.
“LET ME GO!”
Elias dragged her into the rain.
Clara screamed.
Her bare shoes slipped in the mud.
She hit one knee, scrambled up, and clawed at his hand.
“HELP! SOMEBODY HELP ME!”
Elias spun toward her.
Rain ran down the scar beside his eye.
“If you want to live—DON’T SCREAM!”
Clara froze.
His voice was not cruel.
It was terrified.
That frightened her more.
Elias pulled her down the mountain trail.
Branches whipped at Clara’s face.
The storm swallowed the waystation behind them.
Her mother disappeared into the dark.
Clara fought again.
She tore her wrist free.
“What do you want from me?!”
Elias stopped.
Looked behind them.
Something changed in his face.
Not anger.
Recognition.
Then fear.
“They’re coming for you.”
Clara stared.
“Who?”
Lightning split the mountains.
For one white second, the ridge behind them became visible.
Four riders.
Dark coats.
Lanterns swinging wildly from their saddles.
Coming fast.
Clara screamed.
“WHO ARE THEY?!”
Elias grabbed her and pulled her off the trail.
They crashed through wet brush and slid behind a massive boulder overlooking the ravine.
The riders thundered closer.
Hooves struck mud.
Lantern light flickered between the trees.
Clara tried to pull away.
Elias covered her mouth for only a second, then released it when she stopped struggling.
“Listen to me.”
Her eyes burned with terror.
He leaned closer.
“Your mother didn’t sell you to me.”
Clara stopped breathing.
“What?”
Elias stepped between Clara and the approaching lanterns.
His scarred face hardened.
Thunder crashed.
The riders emerged through the rain.
Elias looked back at her.
“She sold you to THEM.”
Clara’s face drained of color.
May you like
Elias turned toward the trail.
“Stay down.”
