It was time.
I punched in the code—the default 1-2-3-4-5-6, as I’d never bothered to change it. The door swung open, directly toward Peter, blocking his view of the empty interior.
I took a quick step back. “It’s all yours. Take it.”
Eager, he lunged forward.
“What the f—” he started, realizing the safe was void.
But it was too late. In that split second, I pulled a knife from my jacket and drove it into his side, just below the ribs. I didn’t want to kill him—I wanted him to drop the gun.
It worked. A sharp cry tore from his throat, and the revolver clattered to the floor, skidding across the wood into the bedroom.
However, he reacted more from shock than agony. The drugs had numbed him. He turned with a snarl, trying to land a wild punch. In the cramped space, I dodged and drove my own fist into his face, forcing him to stagger back out of the closet.
I saw his eyes dart toward the gun. I lunged, kicking the revolver. It skittered across the floor, sliding toward the bedroom door. I grabbed Peter by his shirt, slamming my fist into his jaw, again and again, pouring all my fury for what he’d done to Evelyn and for threatening my daughters into every blow.
“Don’t you ever touch my family again!” I roared.
But I’d underestimated him. A searing, white-hot pain exploded in my shoulder as he twisted, drivinga hidden pocketknife deep into the muscle. My grip faltered, and he shoved me back, scrambling toward the gun.
From that moment, everything accelerated into a horrifying, slow-motion blur.
I blinked against the pain, and when my eyes refocused, I didn't see Peter grabbing the revolver. My attention was ripped away by a small, sleepy figure in the hallway.
Aurora.
She was wandering toward the stairs, rubbing her eyes.
I looked back at Peter. He’d seen her too. The revolver was back in his hand, and he was moving toward the door.
“Rory!” I screamed with every ounce of air in my lungs, a futile, desperate sound she couldn't hear.
I charged. I burst through the door just as Evelyn reached the top of the stairs. Her terrified gaze locked onto Aurora, then lifted to Peter.
I tackled Peter at the same instant Evelyn threw herself in front of our daughter, wrapping her body around Aurora’s.
The gunshot was deafening.
Blind rage took over. I drove my second knife into his neck.
“Evy?” a small, confused voice called out.
I looked to the bedroom door. Anna stood there, woken by the chaos.
I followed her horrified stare to where Evelyn lay collapsed on the floor, her arms still shielding Aurora. The brilliant gold of her dress was being consumed by a dark, spreading stain.
“Anna, get in the room! Now!” I yelled, sprinting toward Evelyn and Rory.
I dropped to my knees, carefully lifting Evelyn’s torso. Aurora, terrified but unharmed, was released from her embrace. The bullet had only hit Evelyn.
“I’ve got you, love. I’m here,” I said, my voice cracking.
“Rory…” she whispered, her voice thin and strained.
Aurora clutched her hand. I glanced back; Peter was motionless on the floor. Anna remained frozen in the doorway.
I turned back to Aurora, cupping her face so she would look at me. “Go to your room with your sister andlock the door. Stay there until the nanny comes. Do you understand?”
