No Turning Back: The can’t-put-it-down thriller of the year

Title Page (#ua4b5bd41-39b5-5150-b4e1-e0da7d8ab282)

Copyright (#u940f95db-efdd-54aa-98f5-ffae0706620d)

Praise for Tracy Buchanan’s novels (#uc8633700-fa10-5a73-8a72-f4f68bf0cb0d)

Dedication (#ubfcf8f58-ab42-51f4-aa62-76502cf4bc27)

Prologue (#ucf2b3320-3284-51d2-9480-a23f1831cd15)

Chapter One (#u50cec2a7-8b3e-5bcb-a293-fcb0bd44fb98)

Chapter Two (#u2edcef96-da4b-5164-95e7-471d84b78534)

Chapter Three (#u8fea6d27-4889-598b-a87f-2d5d576276c4)

Chapter Four (#uc6d6cd86-3e7b-5766-8b6d-26ad415765da)

Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Sixteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Seventeen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eighteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Nineteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twenty (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twenty-One (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twenty-Two (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twenty-Three (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twenty-Four (#litres_trial_promo)

Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)

Read on for an exclusive extract of THE LOST SISTER (#litres_trial_promo)

Acknowledgements (#litres_trial_promo)

Keep Reading … (#litres_trial_promo)

About the Author

By the Same Author:

About the Publisher (#litres_trial_promo)

Prologue (#u1a85ea4c-c549-58f0-9c40-1b962efa5b77)

The First One

I shift my legs so I can peer up at the light. It sends shivers of pain along the tendons in my neck, down my calves and along my shoulder. But it’s worth it, a brief respite from the darkness.

The light is like nectar: soft yellow, swirling with dust particles. I open my mouth, imagine drinking it, almost feel it slipping down my parched throat and filling me with a luminosity that might heal my bruises.

There’s a faint glow of light and a shadow moves above. I think about the moment I crossed paths with him.

Oh God, is this really happening? I shake my head to somehow control my thoughts and my cheek scrapes against the brick, skin tearing, pain burning.

The sound of my voice echoes up the narrow space, bouncing off the walls then back again, seeming to wrap tight around me, stifling me.

Then there. The shadow again. A slight pause.

He’s standing above, his dark form blocking some of the glow.

My heart pounds, a bird trying to flutter its way out of a cage. I’m breathing fast and heavy, my bare shoulders scraping the brick with each movement.

But I keep looking up, not caring about the pain. He hunches down, his pale fingers curling around the wooden slats above me. I hear his breath, deep and low.

My own breath quickens in response, rasping, heart flapping flapping flapping.

Then he lies on his belly to look through the slats. I crunch against the wall, curl myself inwards, my fringe falling over my forehead.

One eye, blue and heavily lashed, blinks down at me.