Chapter 2 - The Cold Metal in the Dark
Lily didn't answer my whispered question. Instead, she pulled on my hand with a frantic, desperate strength that felt entirely wrong for an eight-year-old child.
"We have to go, Mommy. Right now," she whispered, her voice trembling as she glanced back toward the dark hallway. "Before he wakes up."
"Before who wakes up, sweetie? Adrian?" I looked back at the bed. My husband’s broad shoulders were still rising and falling in an even, rhythmic cadence. He hadn't moved an inch. "Lily, what are you talking about? Did you have a bad dream?"
"It's not a dream!" She squeezed my fingers so tightly her small knuckles turned white. "He’s not sleeping, Mommy. He’s pretending. I saw him in the office. He has the big suitcase, and... and he was talking to someone on his phone. He said—he said 'she won't wake up until it's too late.'"
A cold shiver raced down my spine, replacing the warm exhaustion of sleep with sudden, razor-sharp adrenaline. Adrian in his home office at 5:00 AM? Adrian packing a suitcase while pretending to sleep?
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Before I could process her words, Lily yanked me toward the closet instead of the door. "Not the front door! He put the heavy lock on it from the outside last night. We have to use the back window!"
My heart hammered against my ribs like a caged bird. I looked down at my daughter’s face, illuminated by the pale blue light of her nightlight, and saw something that shattered my reality: absolute, unadulterated terror. She wasn't just scared of a nightmare. She was running for her life.
