Chapter 4
The loud, mechanical click of the panic button engaging sent a shockwave of absolute, unadulterated dread through David Bennett’s entire body. The arrogant, violent husband vanished in a fraction of a second, completely replaced by a man drowning in sudden, suffocating panic.
He knew exactly what that red button did. It didn't summon the local suburban police department. It didn't trigger a loud siren to scare off burglars. That specific button opened a direct, encrypted, two-way communication line to the heavily fortified compound of Sarah’s father.
And Sarah’s father was not a man anyone ever wanted to summon.
"You little brat!" David roared, his face contorting into a mask of frantic desperation. He completely abandoned his injured wife on the floor and lunged toward the hallway, intending to rip the little girl away from the console and rip the wires out of the wall before the connection could be established.
But David had severely underestimated the fierce, primal determination of a mother protecting her child.
Sarah was in blinding, excruciating pain, her right leg twisted at a horrifying angle beneath her. The world was spinning, black spots dancing in her vision, but the sound of David lunging toward Emma ignited a reserve of strength she didn't know she possessed.
As David took his first heavy step past her, Sarah reached out with her left arm. Her delicate satin blouse tore slightly against the tile.
She grabbed David’s tailored trouser leg with a grip forged in absolute desperation.
"Ah!" David shouted, his forward momentum violently arrested. He stumbled heavily, almost crashing face-first into the marble floor. He looked down, his eyes wide with shock, realizing his injured wife was the one holding him back.
"Let go of me, Sarah!" David screamed, trying to kick his leg free. He raised his foot, entirely prepared to stomp on her broken leg to break her grip.
Sarah didn't let go. She tightened her fingers, her knuckles turning bone-white. She looked up at him, her fair, rosy face pale and streaked with tears, but her eyes burned with a terrifying, unyielding fire. The pain was agonizing, but she pushed it down into a tight, hard ball in her chest.
"Don’t touch her," Sarah commanded. Her voice wasn't a scream. It was painful, strained, but fiercely controlled. It was a promise of absolute destruction if he took another step toward their daughter.
Margaret Bennett, still sitting at the kitchen island, finally set her wine glass down. The cruel satisfaction on her face was rapidly dissolving into real apprehension as she realized the situation had escalated far beyond a simple domestic dispute.
"David, kick her off!" Margaret yelled, standing up quickly, her pearls rattling against her chest. "Get to the phone and cancel the alarm!"
"I'm trying!" David grunted, frantically pulling at his trapped leg. He raised his heavy shoe again.
Before David could bring his foot down on Sarah’s arm, a sound echoed through the sprawling suburban house that froze the blood in their veins.
It wasn't a siren. It wasn't the sound of police sirens approaching in the distance.
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It was the heavy, distinct sound of the electronic deadbolt on the front door unlocking from the outside.
Click.
