Elara stepped out of the safe room, her heart pounding, her weapon raised. The hallway was dark, the only light coming from the faint glow of the moon through the windows. She could hear sounds coming from downstairs the crash of furniture, the grunt of bodies colliding.
Julian was fighting her father.
She moved through the house, her footsteps silent against the marble floors. She could feel the weight of the gun in her hand, cold and reassuring. She had killed before. She would kill again if she had to.
When she reached the top of the stairs, she saw them. Julian and Richard were locked in combat, their bodies straining against each other. Julian was strong, but Richard was fueled by madness, by years of hatred and obsession.
"Julian!" she shouted, raising her weapon. "Get down!"
Bu
