Chapter 9
In the past, no matter what happened, my mother remained indifferent, untouched by guilt or remorse.
Even when a single sentence from her had driven someone to take their own life, she never so much as furrowed her brow.
But now, her face was pale, her voice frantic.
For the first time, fear gripped her.
A foreign sight. A crack in the mask she had always worn.
I couldn’t stop asking, “Mom, what’s wrong? Why do we have to run? What happened?”
Her response came quick, sharp with urgency.
“I don’t have time to explain! If we wait any longer, it’ll be too late.”
“If you don’t want to die, just listen to me and run! Remember, keep running forward, and don’t look back!”
At that moment, she no longer looked like the cold woman who had sent two men to their graves.
She looked like a mother shielding her child from an unseen nightmare.
Before I could ask anything more, she shut the underground passage door behind me.
I stood frozen in the suffocating darkness.
I had no idea what was happening.
But I didn’t dare waste time.
Following her instructions, I plunged forward into the tunnel.
The silence pressed in on me. I walked for what felt like hours, swallowed by the void.
Yet no matter how far I went, my phone remained useless, with no signal, no lifeline.
The further I walked, the heavier my confusion grew.
What could terrify my mother like this?
I couldn’t understand why my mother had built such a long underground passage beneath our home.
With unease curling in my chest, I finally reached the end of the tunnel.
Chapter 9
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Pushing open the exit, I stumbled into a vast, grassy field beyond the village.
I did as she told me. I didn’t look back.
I just ran.
But the farther I went, the stronger the unease coiling in my gut.
Despite everything, the resentment I carried for my mother, for my father’s death, for Lincoln’s, the way she had shoved me into that passage, her frantic
urgency.
It wasn’t just fear.
She had been protecting me.
And if something could shake her, then whatever was happening had to be tied to my father and Lincoln’s deaths.
I couldn’t ignore it. I couldn’t leave her behind.
My pulse pounded as I turned on my heels and sprinted back toward the village.
I ran as fast as my legs would carry me, dread weighing heavier with every
step.
And then, I reached the village.
I skidded to a halt, my breath caught in my throat.
The entrance was empty, where villagers always gathered to talk and gossip.
Not a single soul in sight.
A deathly silence loomed over everything.
A silence that made my skin crawl.
My chest tightened.
I bolted home, my heart hammering against my ribs.
And then, I saw her. I froze.
At my doorstep, my mother lay crumpled in a pool of blood, her body twisted unnaturally.
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