Chapter 7
We drove back home in silence. When we pulled into the driveway, the house looked small and vulnerable. “We need to leave,” I said suddenly, killing the engine.
Elodie looked at me, surprised. “What? Leave? Where?”
“We can’t stay here tonight. She knows where we are. She’s not going to just walk away because I told her to. We need to go somewhere she doesn’t expect.”
“My friend,” I said. “Harlan. He’s got that cabin up near the lake. It’s off the grid. She won’t know where to look.”
“Okay,” Elodie whispered. “Let’s go.”
I turned the key, and the engine roared to life. I didn’t go inside to pack. I didn’t care about the stuff. The only things that mattered were in the truck. As I pulled out, I looked back at the house. It looked like a tomb. I felt a pang of sadness, a mourning for the life I thought we had. But beneath the sadness, there was a fire. A cold, steady determination.
I pressed down on the gas, the truck leaping forward. The road stretched out before us, dark and uncertain, but for the first time, I didn’t feel like a victim. I felt like a man with a target. And for the first time, I wasn’t running away from my family legacy. I was going to use everything I had learned to destroy it.
The ride to the lake was long, winding through backroads. I kept one hand on the steering wheel and one hand on Elodie’s. My mind churned through the possibilities. I needed a plan. I needed to see what my mother was planning.
My mind returned to my father. He had kept journals, files, notes hidden in a safe at the estate—a safety deposit box, he’d told me once. He had given me a key. A small, heavy, silver key that I had kept on a chain around my neck for years. I had never opened the box. But now, I didn’t have a choice.
“What are you thinking about?” Elodie asked.
“The past,” I said. “And how to finish it.”
“Be careful, Declan,” she said. “I don’t want you to become her.”
“I won’t,” I said. “I’m not doing this for power. I’m doing this for us.”
We drove on. The lake cabin was just up ahead, a place of safety in a world that had suddenly become a battlefield. But as I rounded the final bend, my heart stopped.
There was a light on in the cabin. And parked in the middle of the drive, gleaming like a black beetle, was a car I recognized instantly. My mother was already there.We drove back home in silence. When we pulled into the driveway, the house looked small and vulnerable. “We need to leave,” I said suddenly, killing the engine.
Elodie looked at me, surprised. “What? Leave? Where?”
“We can’t stay here tonight. She knows where we are. She’s not going to just walk away because I told her to. We need to go somewhere she doesn’t expect.”
“My friend,” I said. “Harlan. He’s got that cabin up near the lake. It’s off the grid. She won’t know where to look.”
“Okay,” Elodie whispered. “Let’s go.”
I turned the key, and the engine roared to life. I didn’t go inside to pack. I didn’t care about the stuff. The only things that mattered were in the truck. As I pulled out, I looked back at the house. It looked like a tomb. I felt a pang of sadness, a mourning for the life I thought we had. But beneath the sadness, there was a fire. A cold, steady determination.
I pressed down on the gas, the truck leaping forward. The road stretched out before us, dark and uncertain, but for the first time, I didn’t feel like a victim. I felt like a man with a target. And for the first time, I wasn’t running away from my family legacy. I was going to use everything I had learned to destroy it.
The ride to the lake was long, winding through backroads. I kept one hand on the steering wheel and one hand on Elodie’s. My mind churned through the possibilities. I needed a plan. I needed to see what my mother was planning.
My mind returned to my father. He had kept journals, files, notes hidden in a safe at the estate—a safety deposit box, he’d told me once. He had given me a key. A small, heavy, silver key that I had kept on a chain around my neck for years. I had never opened the box. But now, I didn’t have a choice.
“What are you thinking about?” Elodie asked.
“The past,” I said. “And how to finish it.”
“Be careful, Declan,” she said. “I don’t want you to become her.”
“I won’t,” I said. “I’m not doing this for power. I’m doing this for us.”
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We drove on. The lake cabin was just up ahead, a place of safety in a world that had suddenly become a battlefield. But as I rounded the final bend, my heart stopped.
There was a light on in the cabin. And parked in the middle of the drive, gleaming like a black beetle, was a car I recognized instantly. My mother was already there.
