Nathaniel extended his hand toward her, a silent invitation. Evelyn hesitated, her gaze lingering upon his outstretched palm. For a moment she faltered, memory and mistrust warring within her breast, but at length, she placed her slender hand in his.
He smiled — a quiet, reassuring smile — and, with a gentle yet steady hold, began to lead her forward through the dim corridor.
Why are we going to the vault? she wondered, a chill running down her spine. Her steps faltered, and she could not suppress the slight trembling that seized her frame. The horrors she had once endured within those very vaults rose to the surface of her mind like spectres, vivid and unrelenting.
She turned her face toward Nathaniel, her eyes dark with suspicion, and glared at him.
