Chapter 4 - The Corridor of Shadows
They tore out of the dining hall and into the grand vaulted corridor of the estate’s east wing.
Behind them, Julian recovered with terrifying speed.
“Get back here, you little bitch!” Julian snarled, his theatrical charm completely vanishing, replaced by the raw, venomous rage of a cornered animal.
Clack-clack.
The sound of a pistol slide racking echoed sharply down the stone hallway.
Clara’s lungs burned as she sprinted, her sneakers skidding against the polished marble floor. She kept Sophia tightly tucked behind her body, using herself as a human shield against the dark corridor ahead.
The power was still completely dead, the emergency lights flickering and failing due to severed wires. Every doorway they passed looked like a black abyss.
“Keep going, Sophie! Don't look back!” Clara panted, her voice ragged as panic threatened to tear her chest apart.
They rounded the heavy marble corner leading toward the grand central staircase—and Clara’s heart stopped dead in her chest.
Coming toward them from the opposite end of the corridor, moving with swift, tactical precision through the gloom, was a tall, imposing figure holding a drawn pistol.
Dante.
“Dante!” Clara screamed, relief flooding her system like an electric shock. “Dante, over here! Julian is—!”
Before she could finish the sentence, Julian’s voice echoed from the dark hallway behind them, closing the distance at a terrifying speed.
“Don't bother screaming for your boss, waitress!” Julian shouted, his footsteps thudding heavily against the floorboards. “Dante is busy cleaning up a distraction in the courtyard!”
Clara froze.
Sophia, who had been running desperately behind her, suddenly ground to a violent halt.
The little girl released Clara’s hand.
Sophia stepped out from the shelter of Clara’s side, turning around to face the dark corridor where Julian was rapidly approaching with a raised weapon.
Her entire tiny body began to shake uncontrollably. Her teeth chattered, her fists clenched so tight her knuckles turned white, and every muscle in her frame locked up as if she were standing at the edge of an abyss.
She wasn't running anymore.
The monster from the highway—the man who had murdered her mother, stolen her childhood, and locked her voice inside a cage of terror—was right there in the dark, coming to finish the job.
And for the first time in three agonizing years, Sophia Vancini’s jaw parted.
May you like
Her mouth opened.
A sound—deep, ragged, and raw from years of absolute disuse—finally clawed its way up from the bottom of her soul.
