Dead bodies always tell the truth. You just have to listen. As a forensic assistant, I live among the dead—cataloging wounds, dissecting silence, searching for the truths people try to hide. It’s the only place I’ve ever trusted what’s real. Until Miller Banks. We once worked side by side. He was the brilliant forensic pathologist I idolized. The man I watched with adoring eyes, certain there was nothing he couldn’t solve. Then the murders started. Seven bodies on my table. And every trail led back to him. Miller vanished three years ago, presumed dead. But he isn’t in the grave. He’s in the woods. And now, so am I. He swears he won’t hurt me. That he didn’t kill those people. That he needs me to see the truth no one else would. I call him a monster. Yet the longer I’m bound to him, the more the lines blur—between guilt and innocence, truth and obsession, predator and protector. Because sometimes the one who holds you captive … is the only one who can set you free.