He didn't lock her in a room. He didn't need to — the storm did that work for him, and Damon Voss, she was learning quickly, preferred to let circumstances do his controlling for him whenever he could.

What he did instead was make himself impossible to avoid. Every warm room, every lit corner of the lodge, seemed to contain him whenever she wandered into it, as though he'd arranged the house itself to funnel her toward his company. She told herself she resented it. She spent an increasing amount of each day proving that a lie.