The Escape

Panic was a cold, clarifying wash. Chloe shoved the phone into her pocket. She couldn't go back to the bedroom. He would know.

She limped out of the study and headed for the garage. It was attached to the house. If she could get into the truck... no, he had the truck. But there was an old motorcycle under a tarp she had seen earlier. She couldn't ride a bike with a broken leg.

She scanned the garage. There was a side door leading to the forest.

She burst out into the rain. The cold was shocking. The mud sucked at her cast, but she dragged herself forward, aiming for the driveway. If she could make it to the main road, maybe she could flag down a car.

She reached the gravel driveway, gasping for air. Her leg was on fire.

Headlights swept across the trees. Liam’s truck was coming up the hill.

But then, another set of lights appeared behind him. Brighter. Higher up.

Chloe froze.

Liam’s truck screeched to a halt fifty yards away. He jumped out, leaving the door open. He wasn't looking at her; he was looking back down the road.

A massive black SUV roared around the bend, smashing into the back of Liam’s truck, spinning it into the ditch.

Chloe screamed.

The SUV stopped. The door opened. A man stepped out. He was wearing a tailored suit that looked wrong in the wild, wet forest. He held a tire iron loosely in his hand.

Chloe’s blood turned to ice. She knew that walk. She knew the tilt of that head. The amnesia didn't touch the primal fear stored in her amygdala.

"Marcus," she whispered.

Marcus smiled. It was a terrifying, dead smile. "Hello, darling. You’re a hard woman to kill."