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Leo’s dark eyes shifted from his daughter’s pale, tear-streaked face to Beatrice. He saw the brutal gash on her cheek, the purple bruising already blooming across her knuckles, and the way her chest still heaved with adrenaline. He saw what everyone else in the mansion had overlooked: a warrior in a stained white apron. / Chapter 8 / 15

Chapter 8: The Siege

Chapter 8: The Siege

The tranquility shattered on the eighth night. The Kensingtons had tracked Mateo's burner phone signal.

Beatrice woke to the sound of silenced gunfire tearing through the wooden siding of the cabin. Mateo yelled from the front room, returning fire. Leo was instantly in her room, thrusting a heavy black handgun into her hands.

"Do you know how to use this?" he demanded.

"No," she admitted, terrified.

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The heavy mahogany doors of the grand ballroom swung open with a slow, ominous creak, echoing through the cavernous space. Emily’s phone dropped smoothly into her clutch as two men in sharp charcoal suits marched in, their expressions carved from stone. The string quartet, mid-melody, abruptly stopped playing, and the room fell into a dead, suffocating silence. A hundred pairs of eyes shifted from the trembling pregnant woman on the floor to the intruders.

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"Point and pull the trigger. Take Lily and get into the root cellar under the kitchen. Do not come out until I open the door."

Beatrice grabbed Lily, wrapping the sobbing child in a heavy blanket, and bolted for the kitchen. As they scrambled down into the dark, damp cellar, the memory of Victoria locking Lily away flashed in Beatrice's mind. But this time, Beatrice was the one holding the door shut from the inside, her large frame pressed against the wood, the gun trembling in her hand.

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