The name Beatrice hung in the air like poison, instantly choking the warmth out of the room.

We all froze. Robert instinctively reached into his jacket, but before he could move, three men in dark suits with tactical gear rushed up the staircase, holding silenced handguns.

"Where is the key, Katherine?" the lead man asked, his voice cold and emotionless. He had a thick scar running across his throat.

My breath caught in my chest. These were not police officers. These were hired mercenaries.

"Arthur sent you," Katherine whispered, backing up into me.

"Mr. Pendelton sends his regards," the leader said, raising his weapon toward Katherine’s head. "He knew you’d try to use the wedding as a cover to hand over the key to the boy. Hand it over, and we make this quick."

"Get away from my wife!" Caleb suddenly screamed.

In a moment of blind, terrifying madness, Caleb charged at the armed man. A quiet pfft-pfft sounded from the silenced gun. Caleb gasped as a bullet hit him square in the shoulder. Blood spattered across the white wallpaper. Caleb crashed to the floor, groaning in agony.

"Caleb!" I shrieked.

"Caleb!" Katherine screamed, completely forgetting her own pain. She lunged forward, throwing her body over Caleb’s bleeding frame to protect him.

Robert jumped into action, tackling the nearest gunman into the wooden railing. The railing gave way, and both men fell over the balcony to the hard hardwood floor below with a sickening crash. Frank pulled me toward the master bedroom, trying to drag us to safety, but the second gunman grabbed Katherine by her hair, yanked her away from Caleb, and slapped her hard across the face.

"The key!" the gunman snapped.

Katherine spat blood into his face. "Go to hell."

The man raised his gun to pull the trigger.

BANG!

A loud, un-silenced gunshot echoed through the hallway. The gunman’s eyes rolled back, and he collapsed onto the carpet.

Standing at the end of the hall, holding an old hunting rifle, was Robert. He was bleeding from his forehead, but his hands were steady as a rock.

"Get out of my house," my husband growled, racking another shell into the chamber.

The scar-faced leader looked at his fallen men, then at Robert’s shotgun, and realized he had lost the element of surprise. He backed toward the stairs, pointing his weapon at us. "This isn't over. Arthur Pendelton owns this entire county. You won't make it to sunrise."

He turned and bolted down the stairs into the darkness.

Silence returned to the house, broken only by Caleb’s heavy, labored breathing and Katherine’s hysterical sobbing. I scrambled over to Caleb, ripping off part of my dress to press against the gunshot wound in his shoulder.

"Mom..." Caleb whimpered, his face pale as chalk. He looked up at Katherine, who was holding his hand tightly, pressing her forehead against his chest. "Katherine... I... I hit you... I hurt you..."

"Don't talk, Caleb, please don't talk," Katherine wept, kissing his blood-stained knuckles.

"I was so blind..." Caleb whispered, tears mixing with the blood on his cheeks. "I thought... I thought I was getting justice for her..."

"We have to leave. NOW," Frank shouted, running back up the stairs. "Arthur Pendelton’s men will be back with reinforcements. The local police chief is on Pendelton’s payroll. We can't call 911!"

I looked at my injured son, my traumatized daughter-in-law, and my bleeding husband. The life we knew in Oakhaven Springs was dead.

And as I reached into Caleb’s pocket to grab his car keys, my fingers brushed against a small, tape-recorded device that had fallen out of his jacket. I pressed play by accident.

A chilling voice echoed from the tiny speaker.

"Make sure Katherine suffers, Caleb. Make her pay for what she did... or I’ll tell the world what YOU did the night Beatrice disappeared."