Chapter 20: The Hallway

Mark hit me.

He didn't strike me. He tackled me, his weight slamming me into the wall of the hallway. The air left my lungs in a sharp, pained *whoosh*.

"I'm sorry," he gasped, pinning my arms to my sides. "I'm so sorry, Elara. I have to do this."

"Let me go!" I screamed, thrashing against him. I kicked out, my knee connecting with his shin, but he barely flinched. He was desperate, fueled by a decade of lies.

Chloe watched from the doorway, the golf club resting casually on her shoulder.

"Stop fighting him," she said, bored. "You're only going to hurt yourself."

"Mark, please," I begged, looking into his eyes. "This is insane. You're kidnapping me. You're kidnapping your wife."

"I'm saving you," he insisted, his voice cracking. "Once we're safe... once we're away from here... you'll understand. We can be a family. A real family."

"With your ex-wife?" I spat. "With the woman who murdered your sister?"

He flinched as if I'd slapped him. "It was an accident! Sarah's death was an accident!"

"And burying her in the woods? Was that an accident too?"

Mark went rigid. His grip on my arms loosened slightly, shock overriding his adrenaline.

"How do you..." He looked at Chloe. "You told her?"

"Of course not," Chloe snapped. She took a step forward, the club raised. "She's guessing. She's fishing."

"I found the receipt," I said, my voice rising. "For the flowers. Four years ago. *Rest in Peace, Sarah.*"

Mark's face crumpled. "Oh god."

"Mark," Chloe warned. "Don't listen to her. Get her upstairs. Now."

He tightened his grip, dragging me toward the stairs. My feet scrabbled on the hardwood. I was weak, recovering, but terror gave me strength. I twisted, sinking my teeth into his forearm.

He yelled, releasing one arm. I used the freedom to claw at his face, my nails raking down his cheek.

"Damn it!"

He shoved me backward. I stumbled, my hip hitting the banister hard. Pain radiated through my pelvis, but I didn't fall.

I turned and ran for the stairs—not down, but up. Toward the nursery. Toward Lily.

"Get her!" Chloe shrieked.

I scrambled up the steps on hands and knees, my breath coming in jagged gasps. I could hear them behind me. Heavy footsteps. The *swish* of the golf club cutting the air.

I reached the landing. The nursery door was closed.

I threw myself at it, twisting the knob.

It was locked.

"No," I sobbed, rattling the handle. "No, no, no."

I pounded on the wood. "Lily! Lily!"

Behind me, Mark reached the top of the stairs. He was bleeding from his cheek, his eyes wild.

"It's over, Elara," he panted. "The door is soundproofed. She can't hear you."

I pressed my ear to the wood. Silence. Absolute, terrifying silence.

"Where is she?" I whispered.

Chloe stepped up beside Mark. She was smiling again. That cold, predatory smile.

"She's sleeping," Chloe said. "Like a baby."

I looked at the lock. It was a simple privacy lock. A pinhole in the center of the knob.

I looked down at myself. I was wearing the silk dress Mark had forced me into. No pockets. No tools.

Wait.

The nail file. The one I had used to pick the bedroom lock. I had shoved it into the waistband of my underwear days ago. Was it still there?

I reached under the silk. My fingers brushed cold metal.

I pulled it out.

"Don't," Mark warned, stepping forward.

I jammed the file into the lock. I twisted.

*Click.*

The door swung open.

I burst into the room, ready to grab my daughter and fight my way out.

I stopped.

The crib was empty.