Chapter 5 - Hunted in the CityThe digital clock on the nightstand went dark. Outside the window, the streetlights flickered once, twice, and then died, leaving only the pale glow of the moon to pierce through the blinds.
"Stay under the covers, Em. Don't make a sound," I commanded in a fierce whisper, slipping out of the chair and grabbing a heavy brass table lamp by its base.
My heart was hammering like a trapped bird against my ribs. The power failure wasn't a coincidence. This building was on an independent grid; someone had manually flipped the master breaker in the basement.
Creak.
The sound came from the hallway outside my apartment door. It was faint, almost imperceptible—the soft scrape of a rubber-soled boot against the hardwood floor.
I crept toward the bedroom door, keeping low, my muscles coiled tight. I had left the deadbolt locked, but the cheap rental lock wouldn't hold against a determined intruder for more than five seconds.
Click.
The doorknob turned. Slowly. Deliberately.
I raised the brass lamp, preparing to bring it down with everything I had the second the door swung open. The metal latch slipped free, and the door creaked inward, framing a tall, broad silhouette in the moonlight.
"Dad?"
Emily's small voice piped up from the bed, cutting through the tension like a glass-shattering scream.
The silhouette froze. Then, a low, gravelly chuckle echoed from the doorway.
"Smart girl," a voice whispered—not Jason's voice, but deeper, raspier, laced with a chilling familiarity. "Always answer when your father calls."
I lunged forward, swinging the lamp with all my accumulated rage and terror, aiming straight for the figure's head. But the intruder moved with terrifying speed, ducking under the swing with practiced ease and driving a brutal fist straight into my gut.
The air exploded from my lungs in a violent gasp. I crashed backward into the wall, the brass lamp clattering uselessly to the floor.
Before I could suck air back into my lungs, a heavy boot pressed down onto my chest, pinning me to the floorboards. The moonlight caught the intruder's face as he leaned down over me.
It wasn't Jason.
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It was Detective Vance.
And in his hand, he wasn't holding a police badge. He was holding a heavy-duty zip tie.
