Legacy of Shadows

LEGACY OF SHADOWS TESSA HALE CONTENTS Prologue 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 Chapter 57 Chapter 58 Chapter 59 Chapter 60 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 PROLOGUE EIGHT YEARS EARLIER, AGE NINE Black. So much black it made me feel like I couldn’t breathe. As if each piece of it was strangling me. Pressure built behind my eyes as people milled around the gravesite. They would shake their heads or mutter things like “such a waste” or “poor Leighton.” The only one who didn’t seem affected by it all was the woman standing next to me, a blank mask on her face. It was wrong. All of it so wrong I wanted to scream. Dad would’ve hated everything about today. The black. The formality. The fakeness. He should’ve been here. If this were any other funeral, he would’ve bent his head to make a joke about the woman’s hat that looked as if a bird was perched on her head, ready to take flight. But he wasn’t here. And he never would be again. My throat closed in, a burn lighting at my effort to keep the tears at bay. I didn’t want to cry in front of all these people. Didn’t want to lose it in front of my mother. The one time I had, after cancer stole my dad from me, she’d snapped at me. “Stop it right now. I can’t deal with your hysterics.” I’d shut up right then. I’d spent the last ten days escaping to the woods behind our house. Finding what refuge I could in the trees and creeks. Remembering how my dad had taught me about the different plants and how to make a fire with only two sticks and some dried grass. But that refuge wasn’t enough. I felt the emotion building. That swirling feeling deep in my gut, the pressure increasing with each pass. I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from screaming. I wanted to let loose all that ugliness eating away at my insides. A minister clad in black stepped toward the casket. I’d tried to avoid looking at it since we’d arrived. Dad hadn’t wanted a casket. He’d wanted to be cremated and spread out in nature. But, of course, my mom hadn’t listened to that, either. Instead, there was a dark wood, gleaming monstrosity that my father would be buried in. As the minister moved closer, I had no choice but to look at the jail cell my father would be enclosed in for all eternity. The moment my eyes locked on it, the panic set in, sweeping through me and digging in deep. My breaths came quicker, short pants that barely found purchase in my lungs. Each one hurt, as if the air were made of tiny barbs that shredded my insides. I couldn’t do this. Couldn’t watch them lower my father into the earth. A hand wrapped around mine, squeezing, and I jerked at the familiar buzz that lit in my palm. That buzz had only ever come from one person. My gaze snapped to the side. The tears almost came then. Colt. The boy who I’d spent every summer with from before I could walk. The son of my father’s best friend. He was my true refuge. He always had been. Even when we were apart all school year, the memories of our wild summers would hold me over. “What are you doing here?” my mother snapped. Colt’s father, Andrew Carrington, turned hard eyes on my mother. “I’m here to say goodbye to my best friend. It would’ve been nice if we’d been informed of the arrangements.” My head jerked in my mother’s direction. She’d told me that they were too busy and didn’t want to come. Mom’s cheeks heated. “I told you how you could help. You weren’t interested.” A muscle in Andrew’s cheek ticked. “Not here, Maryanne.” “Of course not,” she huffed. “Ladies and gentlemen,” the minister began. “We are gathered here today to honor the amazing life of Douglas Carmichael.” The panic flared fresh, and I couldn’t get any air into my lungs at all. My chest burned as black spots danced in front of my vision. “LeeLee?” Colt whispered, concern in his voice. “I-I can’t,” I squeaked. He gripped my hand harder. “Come on.” Then he was leading me through the crowd, people whispering around us. But he didn’t stop. He tugged me through the cemetery and into the forest behind it. He only slowed when we were completely encased in trees. Colt guided me toward a log, sitting me down and crouching in front of me. His hands went to my cheeks. “Breathe, LeeLee. Just like I’m breathing.” I tried to follow the exaggerated rise and fall of