Chapter 2 - The Grip of Panic
The sudden, deafening noise froze Julian mid-strike. His eyes snapped toward the front foyer, his pupils dilating as shock clashed with his murderous fury.
He didn't release his momentum entirely; instead, his hand slammed down, grabbing Rebecca’s right forearm with terrifying, bone-crushing force. His fingers dug deeply into her pale skin, pinning her wrist flat against the cold, light hardwood.
"Don't move," Julian snarled, his face dropping to within inches of hers. His hot, ragged breath smelled of bitter espresso and stale panic. "Don't you make a single sound, or so help me God, Rebecca, I will end this right now."
Lily let out a shrill, hysterical shriek, burying her face so deep into Rebecca’s neck that her small screams were muffled against her mother’s collarbone. The little girl’s hands clutched at the linen of Rebecca’s dress, her nails digging through the fabric.
"Julian, you're hurting me!" Rebecca cried out, tears spilling over her eyelashes as the sheer pressure on her wrist threatened to pop the small bones out of place.
Outside the door, the violent knocking struck again—four rapid, commanding blows that sounded like a battering ram hitting timber. The glass side panels surrounding the grand mahogany doors vibrated.
Then came the voice. It cut through the thick glass and heavy wood, loud, deep, resonant, and dripping with an absolute, terrifying authority that Rebecca knew better than her own heart.
"Rebecca, open the door, it's your father!"
The sound of those seven words was an electric current running through Rebecca’s nervous system. The fog of terror that had paralyzed her brain for the last hour instantly dissolved into pure, raw adrenaline.
Her father. Thomas.
Julian’s head snapped back to Rebecca. For the first time since she had met him five years ago, Rebecca saw a flash of genuine, unadulterated hesitation flicker across Julian’s face. He knew who Thomas Vance was. Everyone in the state knew who Thomas Vance was.
In that fraction of a second, while Julian’s mind raced to recalculate his odds, his grip on her wrist loosened by a fraction of a millimeter.
It was the only opening she would ever get.
With a desperate, primal scream, Rebecca twisted her hips, raising her free left arm and driving her elbow downward into the inside of Julian’s right radial nerve. The sudden, agonizing strike forced his hand to reflexively open.
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"Get off me!" Rebecca shrieked.
She didn't hesitate. She didn't check to see where Julian was. Cradling Lily’s twenty-four-pound frame against her chest with both arms, Rebecca dug her bare heels into the slick wood floor and pushed herself upward in a single, explosive motion.
