Where the Blood Lies

Previously

…The silence, once a refuge, now felt suffocating. I was alone, hunted, and armed with little more than a dead woman’s secrets. But those secrets, I realized, were my only weapon. They were the key to understanding the Weaver, to unraveling his twisted logic, and perhaps, just perhaps, to surviving him. I closed the journal, my fingers lingering on the worn leather cover. The Weaver was coming. He believed he was owed. He believed he was right. And I, Elara Vance, the sole survivor of his 'balancing,' had to confront him, armed with the truth, however painful, that lay hidden within these pages. The game was far from over. It was just beginning.