Chapter 132

• Elizabeth’s heart slammed in her chest so hard she thought she might pass out. The old church was cold and damp, the stone walls beaded with moisture that smelled like rot.
• Every footstep she took crunched on grit. She strained to hear anything but her own breathing.
• Lance stood near the cracked altar, hunched, swaying slightly. Even in the dim light from the high, stained-glass windows, she could see how pale he was.