The dream came fast and vicious.

She was small again, skinny arms, skinny legs, strapped to the cold exam table in Reeves’s office. The lights burned too bright overhead, and the air reeked of antiseptic mixed with something sour. Aiden Reeves loomed above her, a mask covering his face, a scalpel glinting in his gloved hand.

“Shhh,” he whispered, his voice soft, almost gentle, like he was soothing a baby. “It’s not going to hurt. Just close your eyes and it’ll be over soon. I promise.”

She thrashed, wrists burning against the restraints. “No, no, I want to leave! Where’s my stepmom?!”

He smiled behind the mask, slow and patient....