Till Death Do Us Part

Chapter 9

Emily’s fingers curled around the curtain, barely parting the fabric as she scanned the driveway. His car wasn’t there. Relief should have followed, but it didn’t. The emptiness of the drive only made her pulse spike. He could be anywhere. Watching. Waiting.

The thought coiled around her chest like barbed wire, tightening until her breath came in shallow gasps. She let the curtain fall back into place, stepping away as though he might somehow see her. The stillness of the house pressed in, every creak and groan of its old bones amplifying her unease.

Emily pressed a trembling hand to her lips, silencing her unsteady breaths. Don’t think about it. Just keep moving. But her mind betrayed her, dragging her back to the memory she had fought so hard to bury.

Adam’s voice, urgent and determined, whispering reassurances in the dark. The way his fingers had gripped hers, grounding her as they ran. The headlights had come out of nowhere, blinding and unforgiving. He had found them, and Adam—God, Adam. Her stomach churned as guilt swallowed her whole. She had dragged him into this nightmare, and she wouldn’t make that mistake again.

The house felt alive with menace as she moved. Every window had to be locked, every blind drawn. Her fingers trembled over the latches, tugging them tight even though she’d checked them twice already. The curtains fluttered faintly in the draftless room, but it felt like they were mocking her, whispering, He’ll find you.

The dim lighting cast long shadows that danced across the walls. Emily’s skin prickled as though invisible eyes followed her every step. She forced her trembling legs to carry her to the bedroom, where the faintest scent of lavender clung to the air from the shower she had just turned on.

Her room was chaos—deliberate chaos. Thin lingerie was strewn carelessly across the bed and floor. A pair of her shoes lay discarded by the door, as if she’d kicked them off in haste. The water from the bathroom shower muffled the silence, giving the illusion of her presence. She locked the bathroom door before slipping into the hallway, her ears straining for any sound.

The dining chair she had dragged earlier stood sentinel in front of his bedroom door. The dog’s faint snores drifted through the wood, proof that the animal was curled in its usual spot on his bed. Emily pressed her palm flat against the chair, testing its resistance. It held.

That should slow him down, she thought grimly, moving on.

The shadows seemed thicker now, each one a potential threat. The air itself felt heavier, and her footsteps barely made a sound on the worn floorboards. At the kitchen, she hesitated. For a moment, she thought she heard something—a faint creak, barely audible, like a whisper of movement.

Her pulse quickened, her body stiffening as she turned toward the sound. The silence that followed was deafening, the kind that stretched too long and left her unsure if she’d imagined it. The seconds dragged by, her heart hammering like a war drum in her chest. When nothing followed, she forced herself to move, though her legs felt like lead.

Emily slipped into the garage, her bare feet soundless against the cold concrete floor. The air was heavy with the scent of motor oil and dust, the dim light from a single window casting jagged shadows across the cluttered space. She knew the layout of this house like the back of her hand—a cursed intimacy born from years of captivity. Every corner, every crack, every secret it held was etched into her mind, and tonight, she’d use it against him.

Her breath came shallow as she pressed her back against the wall, her pulse thrumming like a drumbeat in her ears. The garage was eerily still, the silence amplifying every small sound. A faint hum of the refrigerator in the corner. The ticking of a cooling engine. The soft rustle of the wind outside. The quiet was unnerving, as if the house itself was holding its breath, waiting to betray her.