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1

The storm kicks in late afternoon. By that time, Ralph has made it safely back home. He threw stones at Willow’s bedroom window and left her a note by the back gate on his way.

Meet tomorrow at ruins. 8am. I’ll get others. From Ralph.

And he will. Because suddenly Ralph is less afraid. As he stands at the front window and stares out at the rain washed streets, he feels something else creeping steadily over him. He knows what they need to do and it all makes a horrible kind of sense.

2

Jaime also watches the rain as it lashes against the window panes in her bedroom. Downstairs, the pub is full of regulars and rain-soaked townsfolk who have rushed in to take shelter from the deluge. Someone is playing a ukelele and someone else, an old woman, she thinks, is singing along. Every now and then a loud crack of thunder makes her jump and her teeth, nibbling nervously at her lower lip, sink too far and draw blood.

She swears to herself and to her room which feels like a prison and she puts one hand gently against the side of her wounded face. There has been no sign of Ralph and she is terrified.

She supposes she will have to find Willow and together they will track him down, starting at his house and moving on from there. She is already feeling sick at the thought of trying to sneak out or explain this to Mark when she receives the phone call from Ralph.

‘Meet tomorrow at 8am,’ he says before hanging up.

That’s it. Nothing else. But she smiles in relief and almost sobs because it means he is okay. He got in and out and he knows something, something worth telling them. And then there is Willow, who went to see Jesse….

Jaime closes her eyes and sighs. They’ll meet tomorrow. She feels safer already knowing her friends will be with her.

3

Willow made it back home just as heavy rain began to pummel her head and shoulders. She went in the back way, not keen on seeing her parents or their dopey expressions – and ran up to her bedroom, discarding her sodden cloak on the floor. Something clattered against the window, drawing her over.

The skies were a deep purple black bruise, swollen storm clouds rolling fast. Ralph was out there, soaked to his skin, pointing to a piece of paper he had left by the gate. Willow rushed back outside but there was no sign of him.

Now she stands back in her bedroom, with the note clutched in one hand. The rain is heavier; pelting the shops and the roofs of the vehicles sailing by. It’s such a small world, she thinks, and a sudden bright fear grips her. She feels small and watched, like prey – she thinks, Paddy, where are you? Are you safe? She wonders what she would be if it happened to her; a bird? A mouse? Who decides?

She pictures Jesse’s pale haggard face and her heart aches for him, for all of them. She gazes out the window to see the clouds are ginormous, blanketing the town, swallowing it whole. It’s going to be one hell of a storm, she thinks.

4

Jesse is watching Margaret from his window. She’s heading to her car, waterproofs on, hood up, walking briskly as usual as if she is always off to see to the most important business. He feels a hot sick hatred for her that clutches at his guts and makes him want to spit.

His head still aches, but its duller. He still feels groggy – half-asleep almost, like all his thoughts could scatter at any moment and he will be left weak and floundering and unable to collect them back up.

Margaret gets into her Land Rover and turns on the engine. Yellow light spills across the driveway, and her wipers start sweeping frantically back and forth. He watches her reverse, and turn around before trundling steadily down the lane. He hopes she loses control, skids in floodwater and crashes into a tree.

But would that end her?

He doesn’t know. He sits on his bed and knows he will have to find the others tomorrow.

He has to end this.

5

Lightning ignites the sky as Margaret parks around the back of Station House and turns off the engine. She opens the door and steps straight into a huge puddle. Cursing under her breath Margaret slams the door and hurries towards the house. Angry rolls of thunder boom on the horizon and the rain is relentless as she raps urgently on the door.

‘It’s open!’ Aaron calls from inside and she tries the handle to discover that it is unlocked.

Margaret hurries inside, instantly peeling off her soaked raincoat and hanging it over the back of a kitchen chair. Small puddles begin to form around the chair as the rainwater runs off the coat.

‘Kettle’s hot!’ Aaron shouts from upstairs. ‘Unless you want something stronger?’

Margaret glances irritably at the silver kettle perched on the stove, before marching through to the small living room. ‘Something stronger!’ she replies.

She grabs a bottle of whiskey from the drinks cabinet and pours herself a double. Then she goes upstairs and finds Aaron in his special room. It makes her smile, a small cynical smile that flashes up and then fades away just as quickly. Like a little boy with his favourite toys, she thinks in amusement.

Aaron is sprawled casually in his comfy swivel chair, the one that rolls along on little wheels, so that he can glide effortlessly from screen to screen. His head rests in one hand while the other moves a mouse around on the desk before him,

‘Anything I need to know?’ she asks him.

He rolls forward slightly and points to a screen. ‘The Harrison girl just got home. The Maxwell boy was throwing stones at her window and left her a note in the rain.’

‘Oh? They must be planning to meet up. She came from mine. Hilda let her in. She gave Jesse a trinket of some kind. I think she has a thing for him.’

Aaron grunts. ‘They’re all at home.’

‘Nothing to report then?’

He shakes his head then shrugs and points to another screen. ‘Unless you want to watch the vicar and Sylvia eating each other’s faces off in the car park behind his church?’

Margaret chuckles. ‘Ew. No thanks. I’d rather not. Still at it then? Pair of idiots.’

‘Or,’ Mayfield rolls himself along to another screen. ‘The Cotton boy has just arrived at the community centre. Hewlett is there alone, locking up.’

Margaret sips her drink. ‘Doesn’t he run a group there on Saturdays?’

‘Some sort of book club,’ Aaron confirms. ‘Then, like clockwork, young Nathan Cotton turns up to help tidy up. How very sweet.’

‘He’s like that,’ nods Margaret. ‘Volunteers everywhere. Do you think there’s more to it?’

Aaron considers this for a moment, then sighs. ‘I don’t know. Obviously we know what him and Neville get up to, but the library? The church? He could just be bored or just helpful. Or it could be something else.’

‘Like a spy, maybe?’ sighs Margaret. ‘Digging around. He might be wondering about Iris.’

‘She despised him,’ growls Aaron. ‘And quite right too, snivelling little snake. It’s those other damn kids you’ve got to watch out for. The new girl was talking to Nathan just today. So, I’d keep an eye on that.’

‘Yes we will, of course, keep an eye on everything.’

Aaron looks at her for the first time. ‘Good,’ he says softly.

She drinks more whiskey. ‘I don’t think we need to worry about those kids.’ His bushy white eyebrows shoot up as he turns to stare at her. ‘It’s fizzling out. What can they even do, Aaron? That’s what you need to ask yourself. It’s really no different to last time.’

He regards her silently, his face doughy and craggy behind the facial hair. She feels small for a moment – as if he is looking down on her, seeing her as inferior, an idiot, even. Maybe he does, she thinks, probably he does.

They have always worked well together, the mayor and the policeman. Though opposite in many ways, they have always entertained the same ethos where Black Hare Valley is concerned; and that still binds them now, despite the rising animosity. The town must always come first. It is a special place, a sacred place and it must always come first, above all else, above everyone, even themselves.

When he rubs her the wrong way, Margaret reminds herself of this. They both love the town, they both live to serve and protect this town. She hopes this means they can get back on the same page. She hopes they can reconcile their obvious differences.

‘What can they even do?’ he repeats her question back to her in a slow, sarcastic tone.

Margaret stiffens and closes her eyes briefly, attempting to muster the patience she needs to deal with him.

‘What can they even do?’ Aaron says one more time as he swivels the chair around to fully face her. ‘You mean, except for what they have already done?’

She rolls her eyes. ‘Oh, come on. What have they actually done? Really?’

His eyebrows climb higher. ‘You mean apart from all the sneaking around, lying, breaking into my house, stealing, hiding, more lying, causing a power cut, trespassing and killing Iris?’

To this, Margaret laughs. ‘They didn’t kill Iris! What on earth are you talking about?’

Aaron drums his fingers against the padded arm of the chair. ‘Jesse Archer’s criminal brothers killed Iris.’

‘She shouldn’t have been out there!’ Margaret argues. ‘She shouldn’t have been form like that out there. It was an accident. Believe me, I’m keeping an eye on those two, but it was an accident, Aaron. They didn’t know, did they?’

‘Jesse did.’ He glares back at her.

‘No, not for sure. Not then.’

‘But now? How much does he know now, Margaret? How much trust are you placing in a feral and filthy outlaw like him? A boy who has been nothing but a stain on this town!’

Margaret finishes her drink and places the glass on the desk. She straightens up and smooths her damp hair away from her face. ‘It’s a two way thing, Aaron and it is not being rushed. It never is.’

‘He’s too young, too rebellious. It’s too risky and yet for some reason, you refuse to see it!’

‘Look.’ She breathes in and out slowly. ‘I trust him a bit, I give him a bit, then he trusts me a bit, and gives a bit. Slowly, slowly. He’s got a predator inside of him. Just like you. That’s half his trouble, plus he’s just like his mum. All that hunger can drive a boy crazy. You should know, Aaron. Maybe you and him are more alike than you realise.’ Aaron groans as if in pain and Margaret holds up her hands to placate him. ‘I’m just trying to help him and direct him, all right? He could actually be an asset and we’ve lost Bob and Iris along the way. We need to replace them at some point.’

‘Thought you were sniffing around Mark’s new woman,’ Aaron snorts. ‘Or was that just a waste of time?’

‘No, of course not! Again, Aaron, you know these things can’t be rushed. It always takes time. And time is something we really do have a lot of.’

He grunts, still drumming his fingers. ‘Those kids are still prying. You’re really not worried about that? They have parts of the book, the spells. That didn’t happen last time.’

‘No, but they don’t have enough,’ she laughs. ‘They’d need the whole book to cause a problem and even then, they wouldn’t have a clue…’

‘But Jesse,’ he insists. ‘If you bring him in, he’ll know more and he’ll tell them!’

‘He’ll be one of us by then. Loyal.’

‘Never.’ Aaron grits his teeth and shakes his head. ‘Never. And what about Rowan? Look how that went.’

‘He’s not a threat. Never has been. Just wants to be left alone and he’s been like that since it was his turn.’

‘Says it turns his stomach,’ replies Aaron, his tone snide and mocking. ‘Didn’t bother him so much in his day though, did it?’

‘He’s a hypocrite,’ agrees Margaret, ‘and I’ve no time for him, but as I said, he’s not a threat to us.

Aaron does not answer. He just stares at her through dull, sulky eyes.

Outside, a clash of deep thunder seems to rock the house. Margaret flinches and eyes the door. She has the urge to make this quick and get back to her farm.

‘What can they do?’ she says again. ‘Answer me that right now. Whatever they think they know, who would they tell? No one, or they would have already. And even if they told the whole town, who would believe them? And even if anyone did listen to them, what could they do? Where is the proof for anything? They have some scraps from a book that can do nothing. They have a hare that cannot talk or change form. And, by the way, Jesse’s predator is getting very hungry where that hare is concerned. What else, Aaron? What else do they actually have? They can’t stop us or even interfere. You know that deep inside, admit it.’

Aaron looks to the ceiling. ‘Of course I know that, Margaret. That’s not the point.’

‘What is then?’ she demands, angry now. ‘Your blood lust?’ He doesn’t answer and she knows that she has him. ‘That’s what this is really about, isn’t it, Aaron? Be honest for once. It’s about your blood lust – your need to feed!’

‘I am the biggest. The hungriest.’ He swivels back to face his screens, scratching at his beard.

‘Well, just keep it under control, that’s all I’m asking. Let me at least try with Jesse and stop worrying about those other kids. Okay?’

‘And if it doesn’t work? If Archer becomes a problem?’ He side-eyes her, one eyebrow cocked.

Margaret sighs and turns away. ‘Yes, Aaron, yes. Only then.’

6

The storm rages overnight. Thunder groans across the hilltops and flashes of lightning ignite the black night sky. Willow awakes the next day to a rain drenched town and the storm is not finished yet. It’s still raining heavily and gusts of vicious wind are whirling up and down the high street. Her alarm didn’t go off so Willow is in a hurry, dressing quickly as her parents are moving around in the kitchen, flicking on the kettle and opening the fridge to retrieve milk. She calls out a hurried hello and goodbye then trots quickly down the stairs.

She grabs another coat, slides her feet into wellies and leaves through the back door. Willow marches through the wet grass and disappears among the trees, keeping the valley hills in sight. The rain pummels her as she emerges on the other side and starts to climb. She bows her head, pushed back by the wind that powers down from the top.

When she finally reaches the ruins she feels exhausted. It has taken all her energy climbing that hill with the rain and wind hammering her the entire time. She stumbles breathlessly towards the ruins and scuttles behind the exterior walls to find Jaime, Ralph and Jesse there waiting for her.

Instantly, there is a fraught and frantic atmosphere – a stillness, frozen, icy with terror and anticipation. She swallows the cold air and braces herself. Jesse looks pale and jittery – he is hunched against the wall with his knees pulled up to his chin. He looks like he is barely holding on. She longs to go to him, her old enemy, a boy she has loathed and scorned for so long – but her eyes are drawn to Jaime. She is sat next to Jesse – probably about as close as she can get and does Willow feel a sudden stab of jealousy? Perturbed and disgusted with herself, she shakes it away.

She turns to Ralph. ‘Sorry I’m late – my alarm…’

‘It’s okay.’ He jumps to his feet, hands up, calming her. ‘I got my mum to pass the message to Jesse this morning, but we need to talk fast, so, just listen. We don’t know who else is listening but if I see any bloody bird or animal…’ He leaves the threat hanging in the air and they all glance about anxiously, determining that they are indeed, alone. ‘Okay,’ says Ralph, certain now that he has their full attention.

‘Paddy…’ Jesse suddenly bursts out, talking over Ralph. But his voice is thin, shocked.

‘What about him?’ asks Willow, crossing over to join him and Jaime against the wall.

He looks around nervously. ‘Will he be…?’

‘Joining us?’ prompts Willow and Jesse nods miserably. ‘No, I don’t think so,’ she tries to reassure him. ‘Why? What’s wrong?’

He shakes his head, his cheeks burning as he looks away. Ralph is standing over them all. Willow examines him and thinks the boy she sees now is a long way away from the eager to please, friendless boy she had seen around school. But of course, she didn’t know him then, just like she didn’t know Jesse or Jaime.

‘We’ve got to be quick,’ Ralph reminds them, his face intense. ‘I spoke to Bob Rowan.’ They all gasp at hearing this and he smiles, proud. ‘He was actually pretty reasonable in his human form. The raven form…’ Ralph rolls up his sleeves to reveal the scratches which are similar to the ones on Jaime’s face. ‘Not so much. But I fought him off and I convinced him to talk to me!’

Willow swaps an astonished look with the others – then they all turn back to Ralph, nodding to encourage him to continue. ‘He said what I think we’ve known all along, guys. Sergeant Mayfield is the problem. He’s the one we’re in danger from. Especially Paddy. We have to stop him. We have to kill Mayfield.’

‘What?’ Jaime utters a single whispered word. She looks at Willow and Willow stares back, open-mouthed. She turns to Jesse to gauge his rection but he’s frowning back at Ralph, a look of grim knowing in his eyes. Ralph stares back and a look passes between them before they nod; Jesse first, followed by Ralph.

Willow feels a flutter of panic in her chest. ‘Kill him?’ she sputters, barely able to believe the words escaping her lips. ‘Are you serious?’

‘Yes.’ Ralph nods grimly. ‘And I think we all know it – deep down inside. It feels… right, somehow. Inevitable.’

‘You’re talking about killing a person!’ says Jaime, as the colour drains from her face.

‘Not a person,’ Ralph corrects her gently. ‘A monster. A beast. We’re all in danger while he’s out there.’

‘And Bob Rowan said this?’ asks Jaime, incredulous. ‘He said we had to kill Sergeant Mayfield?’

Ralph nods regretfully. ‘He said Mayfield was a mistake. He said the mayor hates him. He said he’s the danger.’

‘So, what does that make the rest of the committee?’ demands Jaime. ‘Innocent? Are you saying they didn’t all somehow do this to Paddy? They didn’t hurt or kill anyone?’

‘We don’t know that for sure,’ Ralph reminds her, his eyes shifting to Jesse. ‘Jesse? Have you found anything out?’

‘No, not really,’ he says in a low, lost voice, his eyes on the stony ground. ‘But you’re right… Margaret does hate Mayfield, and Rowan, he must have been one of them once. I think they’re all old. Ancient, I mean. Whatever it is they do, whatever they do to people, it keeps them alive. I think it keeps them younger. I don’t know.’ He lifts a sluggish fist and rubs it into one eye. ‘I don’t know for sure. But if you put it all together…’

‘They can turns into animals,’ says Willow.

Jesse nods at her. ‘But they’re stronger, different to Paddy. He’s stuck, whereas they’re in control somehow. It must be some kind of… I don’t know… old magic? Maybe something connected to this place.’

‘She told you this?’ asks Jaime.

He shakes his head. ‘No. Not really. But that drink they gave me, I think…’ He screws his eyes shut for a moment, then shakes his head again. ‘I think it was blood. And…’ He pauses to look at them all. ‘I’ve felt different since then.’

‘Different how?’ wonders Ralph.

‘Like my senses are in overdrive… Like, I can hear and see and smell and taste a hundred times better than before. I have these weird dreams and I feel like I know stuff without them telling me, I mean.’

‘Willow thinks you should leave,’ says Jaime, nervously. ‘Because the other day at the church, with Paddy…’ She trails off, biting her nails.

Jesse glances at Willow with a shrug. ‘You’re right. I can’t be near him. The prey drive, it’s too strong.’

‘Guys, we’re getting off track,’ says Ralph. ‘What’re we gonna do about Mayfield?’

‘We can’t kill a person!’ Jaime cries. ‘We can’t kill a policeman!’

‘What about if he was in animal form?’ says Willow. ‘It would just be like when the dogs killed Iris.’

Ralph nods. ‘Exactly.’

‘But that was different,’ argues Jaime, tears of frustration shining in her eyes. ‘That was an accident. They were just dogs chasing a hare. They didn’t know it was Iris and neither did Jesse’s brothers. Even if we could find a way to kill whatever the hell Mayfield turns into, we’d be doing it on purpose! That’s murder, guys!’

‘He’s not a human,’ Jesse assures her. ‘Maybe once he was, but not now.’

Her eyes are wide and scared. ‘How would we even do it?’

No one answers. It hangs between them – silent, heavy and grim. Jaime wipes her eyes and gets hurriedly to her feet.

Above them thunder is rolling again and the wind has picked up and turned colder. Jaime clings to her woollen hat with both hands and shouts over the wind to be heard. ‘I’ve got to get back! Mum needs me! This…’ She stares around at them helplessly, barely able to meet their eyes. ‘This is crazy.’

Jesse gets up and steps closer to her. He takes her hands in his. ‘But if it comes to it,’ he says. ‘If we have to, if we have no choice, would you help us?’

She stares back at him, her lower lip trembling, her eyes miserable as she looks to the others, before giving the tiniest of nods. She pulls free and stalks quickly away.

Willow breathes out slowly and uses the wall to help her stand. The rain is powering down making her feel like the town is against them, like the very environment around them is trying to thwart their plans – stop them being together.

‘How?’ she asks Jesse.

He shoves his hands in his pockets and glares at the ground. ‘I don’t know. But I can find out.’

‘Anything in the stuff we got from the books?’ asks Ralph.

Willow shakes her head sadly. ‘Nothing. I’ve gone over and over it and so has Jaime. I think Iris did it on purpose, to lure Paddy in, or trick us, I don’t know. But she was certainly one of them, don’t you think so, Jesse?’

‘Yeah, I do and I think she liked to cause trouble.’

‘How do you mean?’

‘I mean, the amount of times Mayfield has said it should have been me, not Paddy. Right from the start, and he’s not the only one. I think it was meant to be me who disappeared but Iris, for some reason, gave Paddy the book.’ Jesse looks at Willow sadly and she nods.

‘She put a target on him. You think we can trust Bob Rowan?’ Willow turns to Ralph. ‘Out of all of them?’

‘I don’t know,’ he sighs. ‘I really hope so. I could go back and see him again? See if he knows how to do it?’

Willow and Jesse swap a look then both nod at Ralph. Willow expects his lip to tremble and his shoulders to drop but she is wrong. Ralph nods back firmly, proudly even, she thinks and then he too, is gone.

‘I still think you should get out of there,’ Willow says quickly to Jesse. ‘Go to the treehouse.’

‘I can’t,’ he snaps, his eyes suddenly dark. ‘Didn’t you hear what I said about Paddy? I can’t be near him.’

‘But if you left now,’ she tries arguing. ‘Before she gets her claws into you any deeper, before…’

He turns away. ‘I can’t. Not yet. We need her to trust me and I have to stay there for that to happen. I’ll find out what I can, all right? About Mayfield and how to kill him. About everything.’

‘You’re in danger!’ Willow cries after him but he leaves quickly, and the wind takes her words and scatter them across the hills. She is not sure if he ever heard them.

7

Jesse knows what he has to do, who he has to see and he feels in his heavy bones that he does not have much time. Whatever Margaret gave him in that drink is still affecting him – he knows that much – it’s in his system now, running through his veins. He knows he cannot ever be near Paddy again and his heart is breaking. But he can do something. He can make sure Paddy is safe from Mayfield. Ralph is right and Jesse knows it more than anyone.

He heads home – to what used to be home – and he trails his way sluggishly up the stairs to the flat. If anything it smells even stronger, or maybe his sense of smell has sharpened. Stale sweat and strong beer mixed with ingrained dirt, grease and decay. Not just his flat, but the whole building.

He still has his key so he lets himself inside and walks straight into Billy. Relief floods him; relief he’s home, relief it’s not his father or empty-eyed Wyatt who’s never liked him; relief so strong it makes his knees buckle. He reaches for Billy and grabs him by the arms.

Startled, confused, Billy allows a brief and clumsy hug before pushing him back again.

‘Jesus,’ he says, his voice no more than a whisper. He glances over his shoulder; Jesse can hear snoring and spluttering from within the flat.

Jesse pulls the door shut. ‘I need to talk to you,’ he hisses. ‘It’s urgent.’

Billy looks him up and down. ‘What’s wrong? You don’t look too good.’

‘I’m not good.’ He steps closer, leaning towards Billy’s ear. ‘I need a gun.’

Billy recoils. ‘Whoa, what?’

‘Can you get me one? Soon. Soon as you can.’

Billy stares at him for a long moment, frowning before narrowing his eyes in understanding. ‘Mayfield.’

Jesse nods. Billy’s eyes flit over his face, as if he’s trying to take in every detail. Then he opens the door, pushing him back out.

‘Don’t let Dad see you. He’s been awful. I’ll get you one. Meet me in the car park behind The Hare tomorrow?’

‘Thanks,’ Jesse breathes, wanting to hug him. ‘What time?’

Billy thinks for a moment, wrinkling his nose. ‘Seven.’

Jesse nods. ‘Thanks, Billy. I mean it.’

Billy does not reply. He close the door, looking at Jesse one last time with a long and sorrowful expression.

Jesse feels lighter as he heads back down the stairs. He knew he could rely on Billy, if only for this one thing. He knows his brother will fetch him a shotgun from one of his poaching buddies and he knows he’ll hand it over with very little fuss. He breathes out slowly. One step closer.

Then he sees the police car.

Like so many goddamn times before…

His heart seems to shudder its way up into his throat and a spiky coldness floods his veins. Mayfield – the car parked in Taylor Drive – leaning out the open window while the rain lashes down. He beckons Jesse.

‘Let me drop you back to Margaret?’ he calls out. ‘You’ll catch your death out here.’

Jesse gulps and stares briefly at the darkening skies. The wind and rain are howling around him and he wonders what the town is trying to tell him. He moves reluctantly and stiffly towards the car.

Jesse climbs in the passenger side as he has done on so many occasions, when this man has demanded it. How many years now, he thinks, how many years has he been haunting my life?

Mayfield grins and starts the engine. ‘Family reunion?’

Jesse keeps his gaze fixed ahead. ‘Just warning them not to poach on Margaret’s land again.’

‘Oh?’ Mayfield chuckles. ‘Well then, maybe she is right about you.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Oh, you know, that you’re somehow worthy or special, or some such bullshit. Of course, Bishop and I don’t agree for a start and we’ve seen a lot more of you over the years, haven’t we?’

Jesse does not answer. He returns to staring ahead.

‘Well anyway, what Margaret wants, she usually gets,’ sighs Mayfield. ‘So, don’t go shitting your pants, Archer. I’ll take you back and deliver you safe and sound. Her new toy. Her new pet. It’s too late to escape her clutches, you know that, don’t you?’ He laughs.

Jesse grits his teeth and stares ahead.

‘What’s inside you already,’ Mayfield goes on in a playful wondering tone. ‘It’s taken hold and you can feel it. She’ll urge you to drink more and you’ll have to so she can trust you – because if she doesn’t trust you, well, where does that leave you?’ Mayfield laughs and when Jesse glances his way, he sees his tongue flick from one corner of his mouth to the other. ‘That leaves you to me,’ he says with certainty. ‘So, you don’t want to let her down or piss her off and you know it. You’ve worked it all out already, eh? See, that’s why I’m happy whatever happens, Archer, because you’re screwed either way. You’re trapped.’

---

Thanks for reading!

Please feel free to leave a comment letting me know what you thought of this latest chapter.

NOTE: Please remember this is NOT the finished version of Black Hare Valley Book 1. This book has not been to my editor yet or even my beta readers. There will be typos, grammatical mistakes, and sentences that need rewriting.

COMING NEXT THURSDAY: Chapter Twenty-Nine “The Hunt”