Chapter 3 - The Sanctuary of Shadows
I scrambled on my hands and knees, the shards of crystal slicing into my palms, but the adrenaline flowing through my veins washed out the pain. I managed to push myself up against the heavy mahogany credenza, my eyes wide with horror as I watched the struggle.
Julian was far stronger. He grabbed Sarah by her hair, slamming her head against the marble floor. A sickening crack echoed through the foyer. Sarah let out a weak groan, her grip loosening as she slumped sideways, semi-conscious.
"Insolent brat," Julian hissed, wiping a drop of blood from his cheek where Sarah’s fingernails had torn his skin. He stood up, his eyes scanning the dusty room until they locked onto me.
I didn't think. I turned and fled into the dark, sprawling corridors of the west wing.
The west wing was the oldest part of the estate, currently undergoing renovations. It was a maze of exposed studs, plastic sheeting, and unlit hallways. My breath came in short, ragged gasps as I pushed through a heavy set of double doors, locking them behind me with a heavy brass deadbolt.
I collapsed against the door, holding my belly. Please, baby, stay strong. Just hold on, I prayed, feeling a faint, frantic kick from inside.
"Emily," Julian’s voice drifted through the thick wood, calm and terrifyingly close. He tapped the knife gently against the paneling outside. Tap. Tap. Tap. "There’s no point in running. The estate is five miles from the nearest neighbor. The security gates are locked from the inside, and I’ve already jammed the cellular tower on the property. No one is coming."
I pressed my back against the wall, sliding down into the shadows. I had to find a weapon. I had to find a way out.
Looking around the dusty construction zone, my eyes adjusted to the dim light filtering through the boarded-up windows. Half-finished drywall, stacks of timber, and a heavy toolbox sat near the far wall. I crept over to the toolbox, my hands trembling as I lifted the heavy metal lid. Inside was a heavy claw hammer. I gripped the wooden handle, the weight of it offering a tiny sliver of hope.
Suddenly, the sound of splintering wood shattered the silence.
Julian was hacking at the lock with an axe he must have grabbed from the fire cabinet in the hallway. The heavy mahogany doors groaned under the impact.
"Emily, let's make this quick," Julian called out, his voice cheerful, almost playful. "Think of the baby. The more you run, the more stressed you get, and that’s not good for her, is it?"
The door gave way with a loud crash. Julian stepped through the dust, the axe slung casually over his shoulder, his eyes scanning the dark, cavernous room.
I held my breath, hiding behind a thick stack of insulation rolls. The hammer was heavy in my hand, but I knew that in a direct physical confrontation, my pregnant body stood no chance against his cold-blooded strength.
"I know you're in here," Julian whispered, his footsteps echoing on the plywood subfloor. "I can hear your heart beating, sweetheart."
He walked past my hiding spot, only inches away. I could smell the expensive cologne he had sprayed on this morning, now mixed with the metallic scent of sweat and blood.
I raised the hammer, preparing to strike his knee when he turned. But before I could move, a hand clamped firmly over my mouth from behind.
I nearly screamed, but a soft, familiar voice whispered directly into my ear.
"Don't move, Mrs. Sterling. It's me."
It was Sarah. She had crawled through the service ducts that ran parallel to the west wing corridors. Her forehead was bleeding heavily, her face pale, but her eyes were sharp, filled with a fierce, protective determination.
She pointed to a small, dark opening behind the insulation rolls—the entry point of an old laundry chute that bypassed the main floors, leading straight to the basement cellars.
"Go," she whispered, helping me slide toward the chute. "It’s tight, but you can make it. I’ll distract him."
"No, Sarah, he'll kill you," I whispered back, tears stinging my eyes.
"He won't catch me," she said, giving me a brave, fleeting smile. "I know this house better than he does. Now, slide!"
Before I could protest, she shoved the insulation rolls aside, deliberately making a loud crash.
"Julian!" Sarah screamed, running in the opposite direction toward the fire escape.
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"You again!" Julian roared, his footsteps immediately giving chase.
I squeezed myself into the dusty, narrow laundry chute, gravity taking hold as I slid down into the pitch-black depths of the house.
