Chapter 5 - Shadows in the Night
My childhood bedroom had been completely cleared out.
They hadn't even kept it as a shrine to their "beloved, fallen daughter." The walls had been painted a neutral gray, the military commendations I had left behind were gone, and the closet was filled with Julian’s off-season golf gear. They had erased me long before the helicopter ever crashed.
I didn't sleep on the bed. I sat on the floor, my back against the wall, my combat knife resting across my knees. In the jungle, you learn to trust your instincts, and right now, every instinct I had was screaming that I wasn't safe in this house.
At 2:00 AM, I heard the faint click of the doorknob turning.
In a single, fluid motion, I rolled to my feet and melted into the deep shadows beside the wardrobe. The door opened slowly, letting in a sliver of light from the hallway.
A figure slipped into the room. It was Julian. He was holding a small, heavy object in his right hand—a heavy brass fireplace poker from the downstairs study. His breathing was fast and shallow.
He crept toward the bed, raising the poker high above his head, aiming for the shape under the blankets that looked like a sleeping body.
Before he could bring it down, I stepped out of the shadows behind him. I grabbed his right wrist, twisting it sharply until his bones popped. He let out a strangled yelp, dropping the brass poker onto the carpet.
In the next heartbeat, I kicked the back of his knee, forcing him to the ground, and pinned him down with my knee slammed into his spine. I pressed the cold steel of my combat knife against the side of his neck.
"Give me one reason why I shouldn't slide this blade through your throat right now, Julian," I whispered in his ear.
"Maren! Stop! Please!" he gasped, tears springing to his eyes as the sharp edge of the knife nicked his skin. "It wasn't my idea! Dad told me to do it! He said we had to... we had to make it look like an accident! A delayed reaction from your head injury! He said if you die now, the insurance is still valid, and the investigation goes away!"
A cold, dark fury washed over me. My own father had ordered my brother to murder me in my sleep to protect a fraudulent check.
"You are pathetic," I hissed, shoving his head into the carpet before releasing him. I stood up, wiping my knife on my pants. "Get up."
Julian scrambled away from me, clutching his twisted wrist, weeping openly. "What are you going to do?"
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"I was going to wait until morning to ruin you," I said, grabbing my field pack from the floor and throwing it over my shoulder. "But it looks like plans have changed. Tell Dad he’s going to need a much better lawyer than the ones he keeps on retainer."
I walked out of the room, leaving my broken brother sobbing on the floor. I sprinted down the grand staircase, through the front doors, and out into the warm Charleston night. I didn't look back at the mansion. It wasn't my home. It was just a graveyard for people who were dead inside.
