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PROLOGUE

Ididn’t grab enough.

I knew that as soon as I zipped the duffel closed. Half of it was stuffed with random clothes, the necklace my mother gave me before she died, and two expired protein bars I’d found in a drawer.

I didn’t grab my passport, which was locked in the safe in my office. I didn’t grab my grandmother’s quilt I folded at the end of the bed. I didn’t grab the photograph tucked into the mirror frame, its edges curled from years of sunlight…my smile frozen in a moment I would never get back.

There wasn’t time.

There was never time anymore.

I stepped back from the bed, and the floorboards groaned, making me wince. Every sound felt too loud, too sharp, too exposed. My room was dim, any light warped by the dresser lamp that flickered with a dying bulb.

I lifted the heavy duffel and pulled the strap over my shoulder, and it bit into my collarbone like punishment.

Good.

I deserved it.

I wasn’t running on courage. I was running on fear. Raw, blinding fear…and all I could do was pray it made me faster than him.

The storm outside had broken an hour ago, but the wind still howled through the eaves like a warning, rattling the glass as if it wanted in. The power had already failed more than once. Ten endless seconds of darkness before the lights had sputtered back to life. Even worse, my phone was dead, and no charger on earth was going to revive it fast enough.

I stepped out of my room, into the hallway steeped in darkness. Shadows puddled along the floor, stretching toward me like fingers as I crept toward the stair, a gaping mouth leading down into deeper dark.

Thud. Thud. Thud.

My pulse pounded in my ears. Really damn helpful when I was desperately listening for any strange sounds.

I hesitated, squinting into the dark like maybe I would suddenly learn night vision.

Was that…?

There was a faint stir in the air, like a ghost brushing past, and then the barest suggestion of weight on the boards below.

I froze, my breath locked, every nerve straining for proof. Maybe it was just the wind…or the house settling.

Yeah. That was it. Just the house. Please, let it just be the house.

I ticked off the seconds…ten…twenty.

There was nothing but silence.

I had to take a chance.

Forcing myself to move, I clutched the duffel tighter and crept down the stairs, skipping the third step that always groaned. My shoes touched the hardwood, its shine hiding a merciless bite. The same surface that had kissed my cheekbone when he’d slammed me down on it. Every squeak of rubber on the polished floor felt loud enough to give me away.

Keys. Door. Car.

That was the plan. I’d never been good at planning, though. My plans never worked out.

But this one was simple enough to be foolproof. Or at least that’s what I kept telling myself.

The kitchen was dark and quiet, and I moved quickly, grabbing the key ring from the counter with a trembling hand.

As I turned, heading back down the narrow hallway toward the laundry room and the back door, something stopped me cold.

The hallway door, the one that separated the living area from the back of the house...it was cracked open.