Chapter 1
Kara
The pain wakes me at 3 a.m.
Not the dull ache of exhaustion—I'm used to that shit. Not the sharp sting of a fresh bruise—I've got plenty of those too. This is different. This comes from inside, like something's trying to claw its way out through my bones.
I gasp, curling into a ball on the thin mattress. My spine cracks—pop pop pop—each vertebra shifting like dominoes falling in slow motion. The sound is wet, organic, wrong.
Oh God. Oh fuck. What the hell is this?
My shoulder blades burn like someone's pressed hot irons against them from the inside out. I bite down on my pillow to keep from screaming. Can't let them hear. Can't give them the satisfaction of knowing I'm in pain.
Not on the last day. Don't you dare break on the last damn day.
I force myself upright, every movement sending fresh waves of agony through my skeleton. The storage room—my "bedroom" for the past ten years—is pitch black except for the faint green shimmer of aurora borealis dancing outside the single small window. November 30th in Alaska means no sunrise, no sunset. Just endless night.
Just like my life in this fucking house.
I stumble to the window and press my forehead against the freezing glass, desperate for relief. My skin is burning. I don't need a thermometer to know I'm running a fever—at least 104, maybe higher. My hands shake as I grip the windowsill.
Am I dying? Is this it? Ten years of hell just to die in a storage room the night before I'm supposed to be free?
The thought makes me want to laugh. Or cry. Or both. Instead, I just stare at the wall calendar I've been maintaining for years. Red X's mark off each day like a prisoner counting down to freedom. Tomorrow's date is circled three times in sharpie: December 1st. My eighteenth birthday.
The day this nightmare finally ends.
The day I can finally leave this place and never look back.
"Just one more day," I whisper to my reflection. The girl staring back looks like death—dark circles under brown eyes, skin pale and waxy, deep golden curls matted with sweat. "You can make it one more day, Kara. You've survived worse."
But have I? This pain... it's not normal. What if I collapse before I can escape? What if they find me dead in here and just shrug, call it "natural causes," dump me in an unmarked grave somewhere?
No. I dig my nails into the wood so hard I feel splinters bite. Don't you dare die in this room. Don't give those bastards that satisfaction.
The aurora outside flickers, green light washing over the snow-covered grounds. For a moment, I'm pulled back—not to the storage room, but to another cold night. The coldest night of my life.
---
Ten years ago. December 1st. My eighth birthday.
We'd been driving for hours, Dad's hands white-knuckled on the steering wheel, Mom crying quietly in the passenger seat. I sat in the back with my snow wolf plushie clutched to my chest, not understanding why we were leaving our apartment in the middle of the night, why Mom kept saying "I'm sorry, baby, I'm so sorry" over and over.
The Midnight Estate appeared through the snow like something from a nightmare. Massive. Dark. Surrounded by endless white wilderness.
"Kara," Dad said, pulling the car to a stop outside the iron gates. His voice was shaking. "Sweetheart, we need you to be brave."
"Are we visiting someone?" I asked.
Mom made a sound like a wounded animal.
Dad got out, came around to open my door. The cold hit me like a physical blow—I'd never felt cold like that before, the kind that bites through your jacket and into your bones.
He knelt in the snow, eye level with me. His eyes were red. He'd been crying too.
"We need you to stay here for a little while," he said.
"How long?"
"Just... just until we get some things sorted out. With work. And... and some other stuff."
"But it's my birthday," I whispered. "You said we'd have cake."
He pulled me into a hug so tight I could barely breathe. His whole body was shaking. "I know, baby. I know. I'm so sorry. We'll come back for you. Soon. I promise."
"Connor, we have to go," Mom said from the car, voice thick with tears. "They're—we can't—"
"I know!" Dad snapped, then immediately softened. "I know, Celeste. Just... give me a minute."
He pulled back, hands on my shoulders. "Listen to me, Kara. The people here, they're... they're family. Sort of. Your mom's brother's wife. She's agreed to let you stay."
"Why can't I stay with you?"
"Because—" His voice cracked. "Because Daddy made some mistakes, and now we have to fix them. But you'll be safe here. Okay? You'll be safe."
Safe. The word felt wrong even then.
Mom got out of the car, stumbling through the snow in her thin heels. She pressed my snow wolf into my arms. "Take care of yourself, baby," she sobbed. "Be good. Be brave. We love you so much."
"Mom—"
"We have to go," Dad said, and suddenly they were both back in the car. The engine revved.
"Wait!" I screamed. "Daddy! Mom! Don't leave me here!"
But they were already moving, taillights disappearing into the snow.
I stood there, eight years old, in the middle of an Alaskan winter night with a duffel bag and a stuffed wolf, screaming until my voice gave out. "Come back! Please come back!"
The gates opened behind me.
A woman stood there—tall, elegant, wrapped in a thick fur coat. Her face was beautiful and cold as the snow around us.
"Stop that screaming," she said. Not unkind, but not kind either. Just... tired. "You'll wake the children."
"My parents—"
"—are gone. And they're not coming back. Not tonight, at least." She looked at me for a long moment, something complicated flickering across her face. Pain, maybe. Or anger. "Your father is my... he's family. And family helps family. Even when—" She stopped herself. "Come inside before you freeze."
"But they said—"
"I know what they said." She turned away. "Bring your bag. From today on, you'll work to repay what your parents owe. Room and board aren't free."
I was eight years old. I didn't understand words like "debt" or "owe." I just understood that my parents had left me in the snow on my birthday, and this cold woman with green eyes was all I had left.
So I picked up my bag and followed her into the darkness of Midnight Estate.
I haven't left since.