I came home after six years away to find my stepmother making my injured father crawl across the marble floor for his medicine—so I set down my suitcase, pulled out my court filings, and promised to bury them legally.

I woke at 3 a.m.

To darkness.

The entire house was black.

No lights in the hallway.

No glow from the clock on the nightstand.

The power was out.

I grabbed the flashlight from my bag, clicking it on.

The beam cut through the dark, bouncing off the walls.

I grabbed my phone.

No service.

They’d cut the cell tower booster too.

I heard it then.

Footsteps.

Heavy.

Climbing the stairs.

Slow.

Deliberate.

I moved fast, locking my bedroom door, pushing the heavy oak dresser in front of it.

I texted Elias and 911, hitting send over and over, praying the message would go through.

The footsteps stopped outside my door.

A fist pounded on the wood.

Hard.

“Open up, Isabella!”

Marcus.

His voice was slurred.

Drunk.

Angry.

“I know you’re in there!” he yelled. “You think you can take everything from me? I’ll kill you first!”

I backed away from the door, the flashlight shaking in my hand.

I grabbed the letter opener from the desk, holding it tight.

Another voice joined his.

Vivian.

“Stop playing games, Marcus,” she snapped. “Just break the door down. We don’t have much time before the power comes back on.”

I heard a loud thud.

Then another.

Marcus was ramming his shoulder into the door.

The wood groaned.

The dresser shook.

I ran to the window, pushing it open.

I was on the second floor.

A 15-foot drop to the rose bushes below.

Mom’s roses.

Thick with thorns.

Another thud.

The door cracked.

A splinter of wood flew across the room.

I climbed onto the windowsill, my legs dangling over the edge.

“Almost there!” Marcus yelled.

I took a deep breath.

Then I jumped.

I hit the bushes hard, thorns tearing at my arms and legs, rolling onto the grass.

I didn’t stop.

I ran.

Around the side of the house, toward the garage where the security panel was hardwired to a backup generator.

I could hear them yelling inside.

“She’s gone!” Vivian screamed. “Find her!”

I burst into the garage, slamming the door behind me, locking it.

I flipped the switch on the generator.

It roared to life.

Lights flooded the garage.

I tapped the security panel, hitting the emergency alert button.

Alarms blared across the property.

Loud.

Piercing.

I pulled up the live feeds on the panel.

Marcus and Vivian were running out of the house, covering their ears.

They saw the lights in the garage.

Marcus grabbed a rock from the flower bed, hurling it at the garage window.

It shattered.

“Come out, bitch!” he screamed.

I backed away from the window, grabbing a crowbar from the workbench.

Sirens wailed in the distance.

Getting closer.

Vivian heard them too.

She grabbed Marcus’s arm, pulling him toward the trees at the edge of the property.

“Come on!” she yelled. “We have to go!”

He resisted, yanking his arm away.

“I’m not leaving without killing her!” he roared.

The sirens were loud now.

Red and blue lights flashed through the trees.

Vivian slapped him hard across the face.

“Idiot!” she screamed. “Do you want to spend your life in prison? Run!”

He hesitated.

Then they ran.

Disappearing into the dark.

The police arrived 30 seconds later.

Three cars.

Six officers.

I unlocked the garage door, stepping out, the crowbar still in my hand.

“They went that way,” I said, pointing toward the trees.

Three officers took off after them.

The others checked the house, making sure Dad and Maria were okay.

Dad was standing on the front porch in his robe, his face pale.

“Bella?” he called.

I ran to him.

“I’m okay,” I said. “I’m fine.”

He pulled me into a tight hug.

“I thought they’d hurt you,” he whispered.

The officers came back 20 minutes later.

They didn’t find Vivian or Marcus.

But they found their car, hidden in the trees a mile down the road.

Abandoned.

The lead detective, a woman named Carter, pulled me aside.

“They won’t get far,” she said. “We’ve put out an APB. Every officer in the county is looking for them. We also found Marcus’s fingerprints on the rock he threw through your window. That’s assault. Breaking and entering. Violation of the TRO. Combined with the evidence you already have…”

She trailed off.

“They’re going away for a very long time,” I said.

Detective Carter nodded.

“Get some rest,” she said. “We’ll have a patrol car parked outside the house all night. No one’s getting in.”

She left.

Dad and Maria went back inside.

I stood on the porch for a long time, looking out at the dark trees.

They were out there.

Angry.

Desperate.

But they’d made a mistake tonight.

They’d shown their hand.