For a second I thought I was still dreaming. The room was pitch black except for the clock glowing 2:17 a.m., and Mark’s voice had an edge to it that snapped me fully alert.
“What’s going on?” I whispered.
Our five-year-old, Emma, was already crying, clutching my arm, her tiny body trembling. “Mommy, I’m scared…”
“There’s no time,” Mark said tightly. “We have to move. Now.”
He lifted Emma into his arms while I grabbed the nearest sweater and followed him down the hallway, barefoot. The cold floor shocked me awake as we rushed through the silent house. The back door creaked as he pushed it open, and a blast of freezing air hit us.
He didn’t stop. He pulled us across the yard and into the dense bushes by the fence. Branches scraped my skin, damp leaves soaking through my pajama pants. I opened my mouth to ask questions, but Mark pressed a finger to his lips.
“Quiet.”
His whole body was rigid, like he was bracing for something terrible.
Emma buried her face against me. I held her close, trying to calm her, even as my own heart pounded in confusion.
Then I heard it.
A car engine.
Slow. Careful. Crawling down our street.
Mark shifted slightly, peering through the leaves toward the house. I followed his gaze.
Headlights slid across our driveway.
A dark sedan pulled up and stopped right in front of our home.
For a moment, nothing happened.
Then the driver’s door opened.
A man stepped out.
Even in the dim light, I recognized him instantly.
My stomach dropped.
It was my brother—Ethan.
“What is he doing here?” I whispered.
Mark didn’t respond.
Ethan walked up to the front door calmly, like it was any normal visit. But instead of knocking, he reached into his jacket…
…and pulled out a key.
My blood went cold.
He unlocked the door and walked inside.
I turned to Mark, my voice shaking. “You gave him a key?”
“No,” he said quietly.
We watched as the door closed behind Ethan. Seconds later, the living room lights flicked on.
Then Mark leaned closer and whispered something that made my fear explode into panic.
“That’s not the reason we’re hiding.”
I stared at him. “What do you mean?”
“He called me tonight,” Mark said under his breath. “About an hour ago.”
My pulse quickened. “Why?”
“He was drunk.”
That part wasn’t new. Ethan had been spiraling since he lost his job. But something in Mark’s tone made my stomach twist.
“What did he say?”