Chapter 2 - The Night Hawthorne Manor Learned to Bleed
Evelyn dropped the phone.
Another gunshot shattered one of the downstairs windows.
She ducked.
“Everyone get down!”
Children screamed from the guest wing.
Evelyn ran.
The community kitchen had been converted into temporary sleeping quarters that night because a winter storm had trapped several local families in the valley.
Now panic spread through the manor.
Evelyn pushed open the kitchen door.
“Stay low!”
A mother grabbed her daughter.
“Who is shooting?”
“I don't know.”
A third gunshot struck the stone exterior.
The lights flickered.
Then went out.
Evelyn swallowed.
Emergency lamps turned on.
She had learned one thing quickly while rebuilding Hawthorne.
Old houses had secrets.
The blueprints had shown her a network of tunnels beneath the estate.
Most were sealed.
One led from the library into a hidden stone chamber.
Evelyn ran there now.
“Follow me.”
Twenty-three people crawled through the narrow passage.
Evelyn counted heads.
Again.
Again.
Everyone was there.
Then came footsteps.
Heavy.
Fast.
Someone was inside the house.
Evelyn grabbed the old fireplace poker.
The secret door opened.
A man stumbled through.
He was wearing a black coat.
Blood covered his shoulder.
Evelyn raised the poker.
The man lifted both hands.
“Don't.”
She recognized the voice.
Mason.
“What happened?”
“They found us.”
“Who?”
“People Vincent pissed off.”
“That narrows it down.”
Mason almost smiled.
Then his face tightened with pain.
“How many?”
“Too many.”
“Where is Vincent?”
“Not here.”
Evelyn froze.
“What do you mean?”
“He was supposed to be.”
She stared at him.
Mason looked toward the hidden door.
“Evelyn, listen carefully. Vincent sent me to evacuate you.”
“You said they might come here.”
“They already have.”
She looked at the door.
“What does he want me to do?”
“Get you somewhere safe.”
“No.”
“Evelyn—”
“No.”
She stared directly into his eyes.
“I have spent eight months being abandoned by your boss.”
“You can't stay here.”
“I can.”
“People are shooting at the house.”
“This is my house.”
Mason stared at her.
Then, unexpectedly, he nodded.
“You sound like him.”
“I'll take that as an insult.”
“It wasn't.”
A massive explosion shook the western wing.
Stone cracked.
Dust filled the tunnel.
The attackers had breached the manor.
Mason pulled a weapon from beneath his jacket.
“You need to move.”
“I know these tunnels better than you do.”
She grabbed a flashlight.
“Follow me.”
They emerged beneath the old greenhouse.
Outside, snow fell heavily.
Smoke rolled across the lawn.
Several armed men were moving between the trees.
Evelyn looked at Mason.
“How do we get them out?”
He gave her a stunned expression.
“We?”
She pointed toward the farmhouse.
“The generator."
“What about it?”
“It feeds the eastern field lights.”
Mason understood.
“You want to blind them?”
“I want them looking in the wrong direction.”
They crawled through the snow.
Evelyn's lungs burned.
Every breath hurt.
But she kept moving.
They reached the generator shed.
Mason opened the panel.
“Can you reroute the circuit?”
“I can try.”
“You're insane.”
“I've been married to Vincent Caruso for eight months.”
Mason laughed.
For the first time that night, Evelyn did too.
Minutes later, every light in the east field exploded to life.
The attackers turned.
Mason fired.
Not at them.
At the ground near their feet.
“Run!”
People scattered.
Within seconds, the attackers retreated toward the road.
A helicopter appeared overhead.
Evelyn shielded her eyes.
Then she saw a man beneath the helicopter spotlight.
Tall.
Black coat.
Blood on his sleeve.
Vincent.
He was walking toward her.
Evelyn's heart did something humiliating.
It remembered.
Vincent stopped several yards away.
For one brief second, they simply looked at each other.
Then he said, “You're supposed to be gone.”
Evelyn stared at him.
“You're supposed to call.”
His eyes dropped toward the blood on her sleeve.
“Are you hurt?”
“No.”
He walked closer.
She stepped back.
His face hardened.
“Evelyn.”
“You don't get to say my name like that.”
He stopped.
Mason looked away.
Vincent's voice lowered.
“Did anyone touch you?”
“No.”
“Did anyone hurt you?”
“No.”
His shoulders relaxed slightly.
Evelyn noticed.
And hated herself for noticing.
“Why are you here?” she asked.
Vincent looked toward the burning western wing.
“Because someone declared war on me.”
“That still doesn't answer the question.”
He met her eyes.
“They came for you.”
Silence.
Evelyn looked around the manor.
The broken windows.
The smoke.
The terrified families.
The garden she had built.
“You said they came for me.”
“They thought you mattered.”
“They were wrong.”
Vincent's jaw tightened.
“No.”
He stepped closer.
“They weren't.”
That was the first time Evelyn saw something she had never seen in him before.
Fear.
Not for himself.
May you like
For her.
And she did not know what to do with it.
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