An absolutely addictive psychological thriller with a shocking final twist. My first holiday with my husband’s friends. A remote Scottish manor.
Nine sacred dolls. One brutal murder. We find the doll shattered on the floor, its broken pieces scattered like a warning.
That’s when everything starts to fall apart. Now the power is out. A storm has trapped us here.
And someone is dead. We’ve only been married three months. And our first holiday as man and wife is spending ten days in a secluded Scottish manor with my husband’s old friends.
I’ve never met them before. From the moment I arrive, I feel like an outsider. And it’s not just his friends.
Things haven’t been normal since the first day, when someone moved the dolls. I told them not to — never move the dolls before the tenth day of Navaratri, the Hindu Festival of Dolls. They’re not toys.
They’re part of a sacred tradition. But no one listened. Even Dhruv — my husband — told me to stop being silly.
I know they’re hiding something. I can’t trust any of them — not even the man I married. Now one of us is dead.
One of us


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