1.
Chapter 1: Uprooted
I stare out the car window, my fingers pressed against the cold glass, as the scenery blurs past. Endless trees, their dark trunks reaching high into the gray sky, stretch on for miles. It’s all so foreign, so unfamiliar, and it makes my stomach twist.
“Skye, sit up straight,” my mom says from the driver’s seat. Her voice is gentle, but there’s an edge to it, the kind she uses when she’s trying too hard to sound calm.
I shift in my seat, but my eyes stay fixed on the passing forest. “How much longer?” I ask, even though I know the answer.
“Not long now,” she replies. Her hands grip the steering wheel a little tighter, her knuckles pale against the dark leather.
Not long now. That’s what she’s been saying for the last hour.
In the back seat, my suitcase slides into my side as the car takes a sharp turn. I nudge it away with my elbow, annoyed. Everything about this trip feels wrong—moving across the country to a town I’ve never heard of, into a house I’ve never seen, with a man I barely know.
Edward. My new stepfather. The thought of him makes my skin crawl, though I don’t know why. He’s always been polite, always smiled at the right times, but something about him feels off. Too polished. Too perfect.
The car slows, and my mom lets out a soft sigh. “Here we are,” she says, her voice light and hopeful, as if she’s trying to convince herself this is a good thing.
I look up, and my stomach drops.
The house—if you can call it that—is massive. A sprawling mansion made of dark stone, with tall windows that gleam like mirrors in the dim afternoon light. Ivy crawls up the sides, twisting around the walls like veins. It looks like something out of an old movie, the kind where terrible things happen to people who don’t know better.
“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” my mom says, glancing at me in the rearview mirror. Her smile is too wide, too forced.
“Sure,” I say, my voice flat.
We pull into the long driveway, the tires crunching on gravel. I spot Edward standing near the front steps, his hands tucked into the pockets of his tailored coat. He looks exactly like he always does—perfectly put together, not a hair out of place.
“Skye, be nice,” my mom says softly, as if she can read my mind.
I don’t respond.
As we come to a stop, Edward walks over, his smile broad and warm. “Welcome home,” he says, opening my door before I can even reach for the handle. His voice is smooth, too smooth, like a salesman’s.
“Thanks,” I mutter, stepping out. The cold air hits me immediately, biting through my thin sweater. I wrap my arms around myself, feeling small under his gaze.
“Let me help with your bags,” he says, reaching for the suitcase in the back seat.
“I’ve got it,” I say quickly, grabbing it before he can. I don’t want him touching my things.
Edward doesn’t react, just nods and steps back. “Levi’s inside,” he says, motioning toward the house. “He’s been looking forward to meeting you.”
Levi. His son. My new stepbrother.
I’ve seen pictures of him—grainy photos my mom showed me on her phone. Dark hair, sharp jawline, eyes that seem to look right through you. He’s good-looking in a way that’s almost unsettling, like he knows it and uses it to his advantage.
I follow my mom and Edward up the steps, dragging my suitcase behind me. The front door opens into a grand foyer, with high ceilings and a sweeping staircase. The walls are lined with old paintings, their subjects staring down with cold, lifeless eyes.
“Skye, why don’t you go upstairs and get settled?” my mom says, her voice a little too bright. “Your room is the second door on the left.”
I hesitate, but Edward is already heading down the hall, his arm around my mom’s waist, whispering something in her ear. I grit my teeth and turn toward the stairs.
The steps creak under my weight as I climb, the sound echoing in the empty space. When I reach the landing, I glance down the hallway. The doors are all closed, their dark wood blending into the shadows.
I find my room easily enough. The door creaks as I push it open, revealing a space that’s much bigger than I expected. A large bed sits against one wall, its frame made of dark wood, and heavy curtains hang over the windows, blocking out most of the light.
I drop my suitcase by the bed and sit on the edge, running my fingers over the quilt. It’s soft, but the room feels cold, like no one’s lived in it for a long time.
There’s a knock at the door, and I jump.
Before I can say anything, the door swings open, and he walks in. Levi.
He’s taller than I expected, his presence filling the room. His dark hair is messy, like he just rolled out of bed, and his gray eyes are sharp and unreadable. He leans against the doorframe, his arms crossed over his chest, and smirks.
“You must be Skye,” he says. His voice is deep, with a lazy confidence that makes my skin prickle.
“And you must be Levi,” I say, trying to keep my voice steady.
“Looks like we’re stuck with each other,” he says, his smirk widening.
I don’t know how to respond, so I just nod.
He steps into the room, his eyes sweeping over me in a way that makes me want to shrink into myself. “You don’t look like you belong here,” he says.
“Neither do you,” I snap before I can stop myself.
His smirk falters for a moment, replaced by something darker, but then it’s back. He takes a step closer, and I force myself to hold my ground.
“This should be fun,” he says softly, his eyes locking onto mine.
The tension in the room is suffocating, and I can’t tell if it’s because of the way he’s looking at me or because of the way my heart is racing.
“Get out,” I say, my voice shaking.
Levi raises an eyebrow but doesn’t argue. He steps back, his smirk never fading, and leans against the doorframe again.
“Welcome to the family, Skye,” he says before turning and walking away.
I let out a shaky breath, my hands gripping the edge of the bed.
