Chapter 1 #2
I froze.
And then I heard the screaming.
“Where is she?” a voice roared—low and brutal, slurred at the edges. “Where’s my wife?”
My heart leapt to my throat.
I didn’t even have time to think. I just ran.
Down the hall. Past the laundry room. I threw open the playroom door where two women and four children had curled up on the mats for sleep. “Out the back,” I whispered fiercely. “Now. Go through the kitchen. Through the fence gate. Lock it behind you.”
Eyes wide, they scrambled to obey.
Melissa burst out of the room across from me, her voice shaking. “Is that?—?”
“He followed her,” I said. “He found us.”
My stomach turned.
And then?—
Heavy footsteps. Stomping. Fast.
We had maybe seconds.
“Get them out!” I hissed. “Back exit—now. Use the padlock!”
It was meant for bad weather. That was the irony. That fenced-in courtyard out back with the storm shelter doors and the security floodlight—that was where we kept the emergency kits and the backup generator. I never thought it’d be where we’d hide from a man like him.
“Y’all listen to me,” I barked louder than I meant to, spinning toward the living room where four more women were half-standing, confused and scared. “Move. Now. Get outside. Go!”
And bless them, they moved. Even in their fear, even in pajamas and tears, they followed my voice.
I waited long enough to count heads. Ten women. Six kids. My fingers trembled as I keyed in the lock code on the back gate. The mechanism clicked, and the metal latch slid into place just as the sound of shattering glass echoed from the hallway.
He was in.
The front window. He’d smashed it.
My breath caught.
“Hallie Mae!” Melissa shrieked from behind the storm shelter door. “Come on!”
“I’m right here,” I said, more to keep myself calm than anything else. I took one last look through the fence slats and slammed the latch shut. “Lock it from the inside. Don’t open it unless it’s me. Got it?”
Then I turned around, walked back into the house?—
And walked straight into him.
He was big. Dripping wet from the rain. Shoulders like a linebacker. His flannel shirt hung open, soaked through. His face was red. Bruised, too, like maybe someone had fought back.
But it was the gun that stopped me cold.
He raised it like it weighed nothing. Pointed it at my chest. And smiled.
“You hiding my family?”
My mouth was dry. “They’re not your property.”
Wrong words.
His grin cracked wider. “You think you’re better than me? Think you’re gonna stop me from seeing my own kid?”
He stepped closer. I backed up. My hands were in the air now, slow and shaking. I felt the wall behind me before I saw it—nowhere to run. No more doors.
“Don’t do this,” I whispered.
“Too late.”
He was going to kill me. I knew it.
His finger twitched near the trigger?—
Then stilled.
Not because he changed his mind.
Because he heard something.
A child. Crying.
Faint, but clear through the walls—out back, past the gate.
His head snapped toward the sound. And that’s when I saw it. Not grief. Not regret.
Rage.
“They’re out there,” he muttered. More to himself than to me. His voice dropped into a growl. “She took my baby.”
Before I could speak, he grabbed my wrist and dragged me with him—out through the hallway, past broken glass and overturned chairs. His grip was iron. My heels scraped across the old wood floors. I tried to pull back.
“Stop—please?—”
“Shut your mouth.”
He threw open the back door, gun still in one hand, and shoved me out into the courtyard ahead of him. Rain slapped against my face. The gate was still locked. I’d told them to lock it. But the latch wasn’t broken—just bent.
And he was strong enough to rip it open.
With one loud crack, he slammed his shoulder into it. Once. Twice.
The latch buckled .
The door flew open.
And suddenly, we were in.
Screams erupted as he stormed into the courtyard. Mothers grabbed children, shielding bodies with their own. He raised the gun and waved it wildly, yelling over the noise.
“Everybody down! I said down!”
The chaos stopped.
Fear dropped like a stone. I stood frozen, soaking wet, watching it all unravel.
He turned toward the center of the courtyard—where she was. The woman from earlier. The new one. Huddled beneath the awning with her toddler on her hip, her body curled around the child like a shield.
Her eyes locked with his. And I saw it all. Recognition. Terror. And then ... something worse.
Defeat.
“You left me,” he spat. “You ran, you bitch.”
She didn’t say a word. Didn’t blink.
The toddler whimpered against her shoulder.
“I ain’t gonna hurt nobody—unless you make me.” He waved the gun in a slow, manic arc. “I just want my daughter. That’s my blood.”
Someone sobbed behind me. Another whispered a prayer. The storm shelter door was still closed—maybe locked from the inside—but everyone else had been herded out by my stupid order. And now we were all here.
Cornered.
He backed up toward the courtyard gate and kicked it shut. Slammed the bolt across. Then raised the gun again, lips curling.
“Y’all wanna play saviors? Fine. Then y’all can sit real quiet until someone figures out you stole my family. ”
He wasn’t just angry. He wanted control. He wanted everyone to see him take it. And now, he had it.
The courtyard—meant to be our safe place—had become a cage.
And we were locked inside.
With him.