The Hunt

Mara didn't think. She reacted.

She threw the paring knife. It was a desperate, clumsy throw. It bounced harmlessly off Julian’s chest, clattering to the floor.

Julian sighed. "Disappointing."

Mara turned and sprinted.

"Run, then," Julian called out calmly behind her. "It’s good for the circulation."

She ran for the front door. Locked. Keypad required.

She ran for the back. Locked.

She scrambled up the stairs, heading for the guest wing. The glass walkway. If she could break the glass...

She heard his footsteps. They weren't hurried. He was walking. He knew the house. He knew there was no way out.

She reached the glass bridge. The storm was raging outside, the wind howling, the rain smashing against the panes.

She grabbed a heavy vase from a side table and swung it at the glass.

*Crack.* A spiderweb fracture. But the glass was reinforced. Hurricane-proof.

She swung again. *Crash.*

The vase shattered in her hands. The glass held.

"Safety glass," Julian’s voice drifted up the stairs. "Laminated layers. You can't break out, Mara. I built this place to keep the world out. Did you really think I’d leave a flaw?"

She dropped the shards of the vase. She backed away.

The Solarium. It was the only room with older glass. The original structure.

She turned and ran down the corridor toward the Solarium.

She burst into the room. The wind was louder here, the sea churning below.

She scanned the room for a weapon. Nothing. Just the desk. The journals.

And the flare gun.

It was in a decorative case on the wall, part of the nautical theme Julian affected. *Emergency Use Only.*

She smashed the glass of the case with her elbow. Pain shot up her arm, but she ignored it. She grabbed the heavy orange pistol.

She turned just as Julian entered the room.

He had discarded the bloody statue. His hands were empty. He looked at the flare gun and tilted his head.

"Crude," he said.

"Stay back," she tried to scream, but it came out as a strangled squeak.

Julian took a step forward. "You won't shoot. You are a pacifist, Mara. A victim. Violence isn't in your nature."

Mara raised the gun. Her hands were shaking violently.

"I gave you a home," Julian said, moving closer. "I gave you peace. And you repay me with this... cacophony."

He lunged.

Mara pulled the trigger.

*FWOOSH.*

The flare didn't hit him. Her hand jerked at the last second. The burning magnesium slug slammed into the floor-to-ceiling window behind him.

The thermal shock was instant. The cold glass met the searing heat.

*K-CRASH.*

The entire pane exploded outward.

The wind roared into the room, a physical blow. Rain swept in, soaking them instantly.

Julian didn't even flinch at the destruction. He closed the distance.

Mara tried to reload, but he was on her.

He didn't strike her. He didn't punch her.

He embraced her.

He wrapped his arms around her, pinning hers to her sides. He held her tight, his chin resting on her shoulder, like a lover greeting her after a long trip.

"Shhh," he whispered into her ear.

Mara struggled, kicking, thrashing. She opened her mouth to scream, a silent, tearing wail.

"You are so loud inside," Julian whispered, tightening his grip until her ribs creaked. "So much chaos. So much fear."

He stroked her hair, wet with rain.

"I can fix it, Mara. I can take the noise away. I can make you perfect."

He pulled a syringe from his pocket. He had been prepared.

He jammed it into her neck.

The world went gray. Then white. Then silent.