The Tackle

Elena scanned the roofline, but it was too late. There was no way down except the trellis, and Julian was guarding the bottom.

"Let her go, Julian!" Elena screamed over the roar of the fire.

"I can't!" Julian shouted back, his face twisted in a rictus of panic. He hauled Maya closer, pressing the barrel of the revolver against her temple. "They'll shoot me! They think I'm the one who started the fire!"

"You're making it worse!"

"I'm surviving!" Julian yelled. "Just like Mother taught me!"

Maya was crying, her body limp with terror. She looked up at the roof, her eyes locking onto Elena’s. *Help me.*

Elena looked around. The attic hatch was still open, smoke billowing out. The fire was spreading fast, fueled by the old timber of the roof.

She had to do something.

She ran back to the hatch. She couldn't go down the stairs—the smoke was too thick. But the chimney...

The chimney stack for the master bedroom fireplace. It was wide, old brick. And it had maintenance rungs on the outside.

She grabbed the iron rungs. They were hot to the touch.

She started to climb down.

"Stop!"

Elena looked down. Seraphina was standing on the widow’s walk below, her silk robe billowing in the wind. She had climbed out a different window.

"You're not going anywhere," Seraphina hissed.

She grabbed Elena’s ankle.

Elena kicked out, her boot connecting with Seraphina’s shoulder. Seraphina stumbled but didn't let go. She clawed at Elena’s leg, her nails digging into the denim.

"I'm not letting you ruin this family!" Seraphina screamed. "I worked too hard for this! I put up with too much!"

"Let go!" Elena shouted.

She looked down. The drop was twenty feet to the terrace.

Seraphina yanked hard. Elena’s grip on the rung slipped.

She slid down three feet, the rough brick scraping her palms raw.

Seraphina lunged again, grabbing for Elena’s waist.

And then, a shadow moved.

Maya.

Julian had been distracted by the police shouting at the front gate. His grip had loosened.

Maya broke free. She didn't run away. She ran toward the house. Toward the trellis.

"Maya, no!" Julian screamed.

Maya grabbed the vines and started to climb. Not down. Up.

"Get away from her!" Maya shouted.

She reached the widow's walk. She didn't hesitate. She threw herself at Seraphina.

It wasn't a fight. It was a collision. A sixteen-year-old girl fueled by a lifetime of repressed anger against a woman fueled by entitlement.

They hit the railing.

Seraphina screamed. Her grip on Elena broke.

Elena scrambled down the last few rungs, landing hard on the terrace.

"Maya!"

Maya stood over Seraphina, who was crumpled against the stone balustrade, gasping for air.

"Run, Elena!" Maya shouted. "Go!"

"Not without you!"

"I'm coming!"

Maya turned to jump down to the terrace.

But Seraphina was faster. She lashed out, her hand connecting with Maya’s face in a sharp, brutal slap.

Maya stumbled back, stunning into silence.

"You ungrateful little brat," Seraphina hissed, standing up. She wiped a smear of blood from her lip. "Your mother was a whore, and you're just like her."

Elena didn't think. She moved.

She tackled Seraphina.

They went over the railing together.

They hit the rose bushes below with a bone-jarring crash. Thorns tore at Elena’s clothes, her skin.

She rolled, gasping, trying to find purchase in the mud.

Seraphina was already up. She had lost her robe. She was standing in her nightgown, covered in dirt and blood, looking like a banshee.

She picked up a heavy garden stone.

"You should have stayed infertile," she screamed.

She raised the stone.

*Bang.*

The gunshot was deafening.

Seraphina froze. The stone dropped from her hands.

She looked down at her shoulder. A red blossom was spreading across the white silk.

She collapsed.

Elena spun around.

Julian was standing by the trellis. The gun was smoking in his hand.

He wasn't aiming at her. He had shot Seraphina.

"Run," he whispered.

Elena looked at him. He was shaking. He looked broken.

"Run, Elena!"

She scrambled to her feet. Maya had climbed down the trellis. She grabbed Elena’s hand.

They ran.

Through the rose garden. Past the fountain. Toward the tree line where Liam’s truck was waiting.

Behind them, the sirens grew louder.

Elena glanced back one last time.

She saw Julian drop the gun. She saw him fall to his knees.

And she heard Seraphina screaming in the darkness.

"He shot me! My husband shot me!"

But Julian wasn't Seraphina’s husband.

Elena’s mind raced as they hit the trees.

Julian had just shot his brother's wife.