Chapter 4 - Pursuit in the Twilight
Tessa didn't hesitate. She threw open the window and vaulted out into the cold grass, ignoring the sharp bite of the evening air against her light sweater.
“Mom! Mom, stop!” Tessa shouted, sprinting across the damp lawn as fast as her heels would allow.
Judith was moving with an adrenaline-fueled panic, her thin house slippers slipping on the frosty earth. By the time Tessa reached the wooden door of the dilapidated tool shed, her mother had already managed to push it open and slip inside the dark, dusty interior.
Tessa plunged into the shadows, smelling old engine oil, fertilizer, and damp earth.
“Mom, it’s me. You’re safe. Why did you run out here?” Tessa whispered, fumbling blindly for the light switch on the wall.
The single overhead bulb flickered to life, casting a harsh, yellow glow over rusted lawnmowers, bags of soil, and gardening tools. In the corner, huddled behind a stack of empty flowerpots, was Judith. She was shaking from head to toe, her lips blue with cold.
As Tessa stepped closer to comfort her, she noticed something horrifying on her mother’s bare arms—bruises, dark and purple in the shape of tight fingers, wrapped around her frail wrists and forearms.
“Did they do this to you?” Tessa whispered, her voice cracking with suppressed fury and horror.
Judith looked up, tears streaming down her hollow cheeks, and nodded weakly. She clutched something small and metallic in her hand, pressing it urgently into Tessa’s palm before closing Tessa’s fingers tightly over it.
“They... they took everything, Tessa,” Judith choked out, gasping for air. “The house, the savings, the deeds... Bryce made me sign. And when I refused, they locked me in the guest room. They made me wear that heavy coat all day so I couldn't move easily... and to hide the marks.”
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Before Tessa could absorb the full weight of the nightmare, heavy footsteps crunched on the gravel outside the shed. The doorway darkened as Bryce Marlowe filled the entrance, his broad shoulders blocking out the pale moonlight, a dark scowl twisting his familiar features.
“Well, well,” Bryce said, his voice cold and devoid of any brotherly warmth. “Looks like the little sister decided to stick her nose where it doesn’t belong.”
