Anchor of Secrets

ANCHOR OF SECRETS TESSA HALE CONTENTS Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16 Chapter 17 Chapter 18 Chapter 19 Chapter 20 Chapter 21 Chapter 22 Chapter 23 Chapter 24 Chapter 25 Chapter 26 Chapter 27 Chapter 28 Chapter 29 Chapter 30 Chapter 31 Chapter 32 Chapter 33 Chapter 34 Chapter 35 Chapter 36 Chapter 37 Chapter 38 Chapter 39 Chapter 40 Chapter 41 Chapter 42 Chapter 43 Chapter 44 Chapter 45 Chapter 46 Chapter 47 Chapter 48 Chapter 49 Chapter 50 Chapter 51 Chapter 52 Chapter 53 Chapter 54 Chapter 55 Chapter 56 Also By Tessa Hale Connect With Tessa About Tessa Hale Copyright © 2023 by Tessa Hale. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. Cover Design: Deranged Doctor Paperback Formatting: Champagne Book Designs 1 Drip. Drip. Drip. The sound pounded against my skull. Some part of me recognized that it wasn’t actually that loud, but it felt like a marching band practicing on my head. A soft groan escaped my lips, and I rolled to my back. A hard stone floor met my movement, and my eyelids fluttered at the assault. The room appeared in flashes of vision. Snapshots. Each one more terrifying than the last. Low light. Rock walls. Stone floor. No windows. I forced my eyes completely open, fully taking in my surroundings. I was in some sort of basement with a crumbling staircase that led to a thick wooden door. I didn’t want to think about what might be on the other side. I struggled to push myself to sitting, my head swimming with the action. And that was when I saw it. Dread pooled in my belly as I took in the rusted chain from the wall to a shackle around my ankle. It was almost as if my brain didn’t want to fully compute the sight in front of me. As if there was some self-protection mechanism in place that didn’t want me to come to terms with the truth. But it didn’t change my reality. My fingers trembled as I reached down to examine the cuff. It was held in place by a small padlock. I tugged on the metal, my mouth going dry. Though the chain and shackle were rusted, they held strong. I was a prisoner. Panic surged, but I shoved it down. I focused on my breathing, trying to keep it even as I searched my memory for the last thing I could remember. Discovering the awful truth that the guys had known where I was my whole life. Confronting them. The fight. Running. Someone hitting me. That voice… I tried to pinpoint the owner of the deep tone, but my mind wouldn’t cooperate. The truth was, it didn’t matter. The only thing that mattered was getting the hell out of here. I pressed my hand against the wall for balance as I prepared to stand. The stone was damp, and the air smelled like mildew. I ignored it and shoved to my feet. My vision blurred, and a wave of nausea washed over me. The faint memory of someone striking me on the head and the raging pain there told me I likely had a concussion. I’d have to deal with that later. The moment my vision righted itself, I followed the chain to the wall. If I couldn’t get the cuff off my ankle, maybe I could remove the chain from the wall. It took me far too long to cross the ten feet to where the metal was bolted into the rock. I studied it carefully. It looked like it had been there for decades, maybe longer. The chain was hooked into a metal plate that was fastened to the wall with thick bolts. Those, too, were rusted. My fingers traced each one, testing its strength. Two of them were the slightest bit loose. I quickly scanned the space again. In the far corner, in the shadows of the basement, I thought I could make out another door. It was likely some sort of closet or cellar, but a small part of me hoped it might be an escape. Turning back to the bolts, my fingers worked the metal until they bled, but I didn’t stop. I had to get out of here. To get free. Images of the guys filled my mind. I knew those images were a lie, but my heart still longed for them. A time that didn’t even truly exist. A whirring sound had my head snapping up. That was when I saw it. The red blinking light. My hand instantly dropped from the metal plate. I strained to identify the object in the low light of the basement. A camera. My stomach twisted. Someone was watching. I curled my arms around my middle, suddenly feeling as if I weren’t wearing any clothes. Then I began searching the room again. This time not for an escape but for anything to use for protection. There wasn’t a single item in the room other than cobwebs. Footsteps sounded above, and my stomach cramped again. A key slid into the lock. Hinges creaked as the door to the basement opened. More footsteps on the stairs. I made out boots first. Ones made of gleaming leather. Nice jeans over the tops of them. Then a face appeared. One that had a chill skating over my skin. Damien stepped into the light. I couldn’t help but