Chapter 59 Kate

59 KATE

NOW

Kate freezes in horror as Rob staggers inside, bloodied, filmed with sweat, drunk with fury. He’s unsteady on his feet, heading into the living room and knocking over a lamp as he swipes at Camilla with a knife. He misses, but Darcy crashes into his side, sending him flying, the knife hitting the floor. Darcy scrambles to get it, but he kicks out at her legs, and with a scream she falls forward, hitting the coffee table.

Rob turns to Kate then, and she realizes she can’t run, can’t move, her whole body turned to stone. She holds up her hands.

“No,” she pleads. “No!”

His gaze shifts, and from the corner of her eye she sees Jade, cowering and weeping by the sofa. Rob moves toward her unevenly. Blood is striped across his torso, a horrible gash in his shoulder from where Darcy stabbed him. This can’t be happening , Kate thinks. It’s like something out of a horror movie.

“You bitch,” he growls at Jade. “You were working with them the whole time, weren’t you? I should rip your fucking head off.”

He grabs Jade by the hair, pulling her head roughly down to her knees, the other hand gripping her by the throat. Kate can hear Jade gag as he squeezes, hard. She wants to rush to her aid, but she can’t. Her legs won’t budge, and she feels helpless, pinned to the spot.

“Get off her!” she cries. Quickly, Camilla lifts the dolphin sculpture from the side table and throws herself toward Rob, bringing it down hard on his head. The pieces shatter to the floor, but he barely seems to notice. Rob lets go of Jade but catches Camilla with a heavy slam to the face, knocking her to the ground.

She doesn’t get up. Kate raises her hands to her mouth with a tortured cry. Camilla is unmoving, completely silent. Kate is certain she’s dead.

The knife, she thinks. The knife is on the ground, close to Darcy, but now Darcy is crouching for it and Kate remains utterly paralyzed.

Rob pauses, standing over Jade, panting. “I trusted you,” he says, his voice strangely pained.

“Please, Rob,” Jade whimpers. “I didn’t… I didn’t…”

He scowls at her in disgust. “I should have known you were nothing but a—”

He doesn’t finish the sentence. With a scream, Darcy raises her hands high and sinks the knife into his back, a plume of blood shooting toward the ceiling fan. Rob manages to turn toward her with a deep groan, his face slack. But in one swift, precise movement, Darcy pulls the knife out, then sweeps it across Rob’s neck, right over his tattoo.

His eyes widen, and he staggers backward, gagging. Blood bubbles out from a deep cut, his face full of surprise as he drops to his knees and keels forward.

The room lists for Kate, seeming to reel from the violence.

Darcy is standing over Rob, the knife in her hand. Camilla is on the ground, too, a few feet away, not moving. Jade is on her knees by the doorway of the dining area, holding her throat and gulping back air.

Kate approaches Darcy slowly. “Darcy?” she says, holding her hands up. “Put the knife down.”

Darcy nods, lowering it.

“Jade?” Kate says, her eyes never leaving Darcy. “How are you, lovely?”

“I’m fine,” Jade croaks.

“That’s good,” Kate says. “Let’s keep it that way. Eh, Darcy?”

Darcy doesn’t move. The knife is still in her grasp, her lace kimono soaked with Rob’s blood. Her eyes hold a sudden cruelty, and she smiles at Kate. A smile that is at once familiar and sinister.

“I’ll give you a five-second head start,” Darcy says, the blade twitching in her hand.

It takes a beat too long for Kate to register Darcy’s meaning. She can’t be serious.

“One,” Darcy says in a low voice. “Two.”

“Jade, run!” Kate shouts then, and Jade dashes into the kitchen, locking the door behind her. Darcy’s blocking the front door, and Kate knows that the entrance to the ground-floor deck is locked. There is no exit from this floor. No way out.

Quickly, she takes to the stairs, racing up to the main bedroom.

“Three,” Darcy calls after her.

Kate’s heart is clanging in her chest. She hasn’t a second to spare. With a fresh spike of dread, she realizes that her phone is downstairs.

“Four.”

She hears Darcy’s feet on the stairs as she dives into the bedroom. The en suite, she thinks. It’s the only door with a lock.

She darts into it, slamming the bathroom door shut behind her—too late.

“Five.”

In moments, Darcy is there, kicking in the door and barreling after her.

Kate backs up against the shower door, flailing around the room for a weapon. Her hand falls on her open toiletries bag and she clutches at the small scissors she uses to tame split ends.

“They look blunt as spoons, those scissors,” Darcy says with a smile. “You thinking of making a paper chain, Kate?”

In one swift motion, Darcy snatches the scissors from Kate. Kate’s reaction is reflexive—she reaches back, and although she misses she makes Darcy lose her grip on the knife. It drops to the tiled floor with a metallic clang, and Kate kicks it quickly, sending it skittering under the bathtub.

“You bitch!” Darcy yells, punching her solidly in the face. The blow sends white lights shooting behind Kate’s eyes, and she falls to the floor.

And then Darcy’s on top of her, pinning her arms to her sides. Hot vomit explodes out of Kate’s mouth as Darcy straddles her. Kate is still hacking and choking when she feels the sharp end of scissors against her tongue, Darcy pressing down.

Oh God , she thinks, her mind turning to her cats at home. To her lovely armchair and her books. This is how I die.

“You couldn’t leave it be, could you?” Darcy snarls, staring down with a menacing grin. Kate can sense a shift in Darcy’s mood, something primal turning gears—she’s lifting the scissors, just an inch, preparing for a last, fatal press of the blades into the back of Kate’s throat.

Quickly, Kate bites down on the blades, a horrible scraping sound as she tries to keep them from slicing her tongue off. She shoves against Darcy with all her might, but there’s no moving her, those terrible hazel eyes burning with malice.

Kate closes her eyes, a single tear sliding down her face.