First and foremost, THIS BOOK ENDS ON A CLIFFHANGER.

If you don’t like them, then please for all that is holy, do not read and then proceed to leave a bad review because you don’t like cli angers. YOU’VE BEEN WARNED.

Second, this is a dark book that includes stalking, non/dub-con, graphic violence, and sexual situa ons.

A lot of sexual situa ons, guys.

I’m a woman in love with her own character, okay? I wanted to see his penis as much as possible.

So, if any of these are triggering for you, please do not read this book.

But those aren’t the ones I’m concerned about. In fact, I know those might even be appealing to some. And I know some authors don’t like to lay out the specific triggers, as they want readers to experience the book blind. I get that, but with this book, I simply would not feel right if I did not make these triggers very clear.

The last thing I would ever want to do is put a reader through any type of trauma, whether it’s new or relived. And to be frank, it’s a pre y fucked up subject ma er.

So if you do not want to be spoiled and read further, then stop here.

This book deals heavily with human traffcking. Child traffcking mostly.

But not only that, it deals with the conspiracy theories surrounding the government with child sacrifice and cannibalism. I am heavy-handed onthe subject, but I did take great care not to go into the nasty details while also showing the reality of what goes on in the world today.

If any readers know me, they know that I don’t sugarcoat real-world problems. This book is no exception.

Children do die in this book.

And while it does not happen in the company of the MC, he does see it and it is described.

So, my dear reader, if you choose to go further, it is at your own risk. But on the other side, you may find that you have also fallen in love.

We can all only hope, right?

1 (888) 373-7888 Na on Human Trafficking Hotline.

So this story and its characters solely belong to its original author H.D.CARLTON

So please don't report this.

This book contains murder, gore, trauma, kidnapping, sex trafficking, and all.

So if anybody finds it disturbing please don't start reading.

So hope u a happy reading!!

[IMPORTANT NOTE:

As some of you may know, the first book in this duet, Haunting Adeline,

was banned due to the warnings. But it is so necessary to have one. These are also available on my website.

This book contains very dark triggering situations, particularly a four letter one that starts with R and ends with E, though NOT between the main characters. Is that creative enough, ‘Zon? These scenes can be detailed, so please proceed with caution. There is also graphic violence, sexual assault,

explicit sexual situations, human trafficking, PTSD, and very particular kinks such as blood play, knife play, degradation, and somnophilia.

This book is significantly darker than the first. Please take these warnings seriously.

Your mental health matters.]

The windows of my house tremble from the power of thunder rolling across the skies. Lightning strikes in the distance, illuminating the night.

In that small moment, the few seconds of blinding light showcases the man standing outside my window. Watching me. Always watching me.

I go through the mo ons, just like I always do. My heart skips a beat and then palpitates, my breathing turns shallow, and my hands grow clammy. It doesn’t matter how many times I see him, he always pulls the same reaction out of me.

FEAR.

And excitement.

I don’t know why it excites me. Something must be wrong with me. It’s not normal for liquid heat to course through my veins, leaving tingles burning in its wake. It’s not common for my mind to start wondering about things I shouldn’t.

Can he see me now? Wearing nothing but a thin tank top, my nipples poking through the material? Or the shorts I’m wearing that barely cover my ass? Does he like the view?

Of course he does.

That’s why he watches me, isn’t it? That’s why he comes back every night, growing bolder with his leering while I silently challenge him. Hoping he’ll come closer, so I have a reason to put a knife to his throat.

The truth is, I’m scared of him. Terrified, actually.

But the man standing outside my window makes me feel like I’m si ng in a dark room, a single light shining from the television where a horror flick plays on the screen. It’s petrifying, and all I want to do is hide, but there’s a distinct part of me that keeps me s ll, baring myself to the horror.

That finds a small thrill out of it.

It’s dark again, and the lightning strikes in areas further away.

My breathing continues to escalate. I can’t see him, but he can see me.

Ripping my eyes away from the window, I turn to look behind me in the darkened house, paranoid that he’s somehow found a way inside. No ma er how deep the shadows go in Parsons Manor, the black and white checkered floor always seems visible.

I inherited this house from my grandparents. My great-grandparents had built the three-story Victorian home back in the early 1940s through blood,

sweat, tears, and the lives of five construction workers.

Legend says—or rather Nana says—that the house caught fire and killed the construction workers during the building structure phase. I haven't been able to find any news articles  on the unfortunate event, but the souls that haunt the Manor reek of despair.

Nana always told grandiose stories that wrung eye rolls from my parents.

Mom never believed anything Nana said, but I think she just didn’t want to.

Some mes I hear footsteps at night. They could be from the ghosts of the workers who died in the tragic fire eighty years ago, or they could be from the shadow that stands outside my house.

Watching me.

Always watching me.