Chapter 2

"Savannah, you have to come home!" Mother's voice was a desperate plea into her phone. "There are men in the house! They're trying to break into Ethan's room!"

I listened, my body tensed, pressed against the dresser.

Silence from the other end. Then, Savannah's voice, dripping with annoyance.

"Mom, seriously? Stop with the drama. Cody's about to go on. This is important."

Cody. Always Cody.

"This isn't drama, Savannah! They broke down the front gate! I'm scared!" Mother's voice cracked.

"Oh, please. You just don't want me to be happy with Cody. And tell Ethan to cut it out with his little games. I'm not falling for it again."

My blood ran cold.

Again?

She remembered. Savannah remembered the last time.

But her memory was twisted, warped. She thought *I* had orchestrated it. That lying snake Cody must have fed her that poison.

The door shuddered under another blow. A crack appeared in one of the panels.

"I'm not lying, Savannah! For God's sake, listen to me! They'll kill us!" Mother was sobbing now.

"Right. Like you said last time. And who ended up dead, Mom? Cody's reputation, that's who. Because of Ethan's schemes. I'm hanging up. Don't call again unless it's a real emergency."

The line went dead.

Mother stared at her phone, her face a mask of disbelief and horror.

"She... she thinks..."

"She thinks I'm making it up, Mom. Just like last time, in her mind."

A splintered piece of wood flew inward as the door buckled.

A guttural laugh from the other side. "Found you, little pigs."

I pushed Mother behind me. "Get to the balcony. The pool awning is below. It might break your fall."

"Ethan, no! I'm not leaving you!"

"Go! Get to Brooke's. Get help!"

The doorjamb splintered. The dresser scraped backwards, inch by agonizing inch.

There were at least two of them. Their shadows danced in the widening gap.

One of them kicked the door hard, near the handle. The weakened wood gave way with a sickening crack.

A grimy hand reached through, fumbling for the broken knob.

"No time, Mom! Jump!" I yelled, shoving her towards the French doors leading to the balcony.

But she wouldn't budge.

Instead, she spun around.

With a cry, she launched herself at the widening gap in the door, just as a man started to squeeze through.

She grabbed his arm, the one holding a long, wicked-looking hunting knife.

"Ethan, run! Get out of here!" she screamed, her voice raw with terror and a desperate courage I'd never witnessed.

"Mom!"

The man roared, surprised by her ferocity. He tried to shake her off.

She clung to him, a shield between me and the danger.

He raised his other arm, his fist clenched.

Then, the sickening thud of the knife.

Not into him.

Into her.

Her cry was cut short, a strangled gasp.

Her grip loosened.

Red blossomed on the front of her white silk robe.

"Jump, Ethan!" she choked out, her eyes finding mine, filled with an unbearable pain and love. "Live!"

The world went silent. All I saw was the red. Spreading.