It’s a huge risk to do what I’m about to do. If The Association finds out, they’ll kill me or my family.
But I’ve never been the passive type. I can’t wait for someone to rescue me.
And with the opportunity in my face, I have to trust my gut.
My gaze darts to the camera closest to me. No blinking red light.
My asshole husband probably thinks I’ve given up searching for answers. Maybe he thinks I’m too chicken to do more.
A slow smile tugs at my lips.
Oops, Shadow King.
Seems you’ve underestimated your good little wife.
I glance at the clock, its second hand ticking, reminding me I’m running out of time before my jailer returns.
Time to take a risk.
“Meow,” Cece voices her concern.
“I’ll be fine. Be good. I’ll be back soon.” I set her on the windowsill, her favorite spot.
Carefully, I pull on my down jacket and traipse down the stairs.
I unlock the front door. The click is soft, but it echoes in the marble foyer. I hold my breath, gaze snapping around. No one comes, and I slip out.
The sky is overcast, a light mist shrouding the air. The weather may be freezing, but it’s on my side.
One good thing about being trapped indoors and being bored out of my mind is I’ve observed the guards and their routines, written down their schedules.
Yesterday, I spent the whole day haunting the window, noting every lap, tracking cigarette and cell phone breaks.
There’s a small window now—one precise minute—where one guard walks toward the backyard pool, the other circling the perimeter. Their patrols run the same way throughout the day. I timed it. A precise pattern. If I don’t go now, I won’t go at all.
I dart along the fence, boots clomping on thick snow. The tall evergreen trees screen me from the main lawn. Branches scratch my calves, and I hiss in pain. Quickly, I make it to the front, but I don’t take the main gate where the guard tower is. Instead, I slip toward the smaller door the gardeners use.
Voices travel to my ears. I duck behind a hedge, heart beating out of my chest.
Shit. I glance through the small gap between the leaves and the pockets of snow. They finished their patrol sooner.
Or I was too slow.
The man speaks into his walkie-talkie, his gaze sharp. He turns his head in my direction.
I curl into a ball and hold myself still. The sharp twigs dig deep into my flesh.
Please don’t see me.
A few seconds pass, then I hear his footsteps as he walks out of view.
Blowing out a breath, I tiptoe to the small door, fish out a hairpin, and fiddle with the lock.
Click.It opens.
I slip onto the quiet street, scan left and right. No neighbors. No guards.
I dash toward the sedan.
