No Way Out

Elena stood frozen, her eyes locked on the dull, metallic jaws of the wire cutters. Marcus didn't advance. He didn't need to. He stood in the doorway, a monument to the violence simmering beneath the surface of their marriage. The severed fiber-optic cable lay on the floor like a dead snake, a physical confirmation that the world outside no longer existed.

"We should conserve power, El," Marcus said, his voice terrifyingly calm. He slipped the cutters into the back pocket of his trousers. "The batteries won't last forever. You should be upstairs with Leo."

It wasn't a suggestion.

Elena pushed past him, her shoulder brushing his arm. The contact sent a jolt of revulsion through her, but she kept her face blank, her breathing measured. She climbed the stairs, listening to the heavy thud of his footsteps following her. He wasn't going to the bedroom; he was going to his study to watch the cameras. To watch her.

She reached the landing and turned toward the nursery, but she didn't go in. Instead, she continued down the hall, past the guest room where Val was undoubtedly listening, and toward the back stairwell that led to the mudroom and the garage.

She moved with the silence of a ghost, her socks sliding on the hardwood. She had to try. The SUV was in the garage. It had four-wheel drive and snow tires. If she could get Leo into the back seat, if she could just get the door open...

She slipped into the mudroom, the air frigid. The door to the garage was unlocked. She pushed it open, the smell of gasoline and cold concrete hitting her.

The garage was dark, illuminated only by the faint, blueish glow of the storm filtering through the high windows. Marcus’s truck was parked directly in front of the bay door, its massive bumper pressed against the metal tracks. Her SUV was trapped behind it, boxed in.

Elena ran to the truck, yanking on the handle. Locked. She peered through the window. The keys were gone.

She moved to the wall panel, hitting the button for the garage door opener.

*Click. Hummmmm. Clunk.*

The motor engaged, the chain tightened, but the door didn't move. The truck’s bumper was wedged against the bottom panel, physically jamming the mechanism.

"The brakes failed," Marcus said from the doorway behind her.

Elena spun around. He was leaning against the frame, his arms crossed, his silhouette a black void against the dim light of the house. He hadn't followed her to the study. He had known exactly where she would go.

"I parked it there to inspect the line," he lied, his voice echoing in the cold space. "And the parking brake... well. Old trucks. Terrible luck."

He pushed off the wall and walked toward her, his boots crunching on the concrete. He stopped a foot away, close enough for her to smell the scotch on his breath.

"We're all staying put," he said, his hand resting on the hood of the truck, trapping her between the vehicle and his body. "Until this is resolved."