1. Willow

Something was up.

Why else would my uncle be in the house yelling at his brother—my father? It makes no sense. I slide down the hall in my stocking feet, trying to get closer to my father"s office. My brother is in there with them. The way he talks—his voice strained and stressed. I can"t hear much of what"s being said because my uncle suddenly shuts up.

My father asks, "What"s gotten into you, Marcus?" in a low, choked voice. It worries me that both my father and my brother are nervous around my uncle. The man has always given me a bad feeling. I can"t put my finger on it, but it"s there and it makes me nervous. Especially now.

I sneak closer until I"m hidden behind the medieval knight, which my mother insisted would look amazing. She wanted a Scottish castle vibe. Years after she died, none of us wanted it gone. Now it hides me from view.

Uncle Marcus clears his throat. "Damien, the only way forward is for you to sign everything over to me. You have no choice."

"Dad," Gabe whispers, "you can"t do that. Don"t let him bully you." It"s good to hear my brother speaking out. A surprise, mind you. Gabe has a habit of siding with the winning hand. But from what I hear, this is different.

"Watch your tone, Gabriel," Uncle Marcus growls. "You stay out of this."

I hear a sharp gasp, and for a moment I wonder if it was me who made the sound. I don"t think it was. Against my better judgment, I move toward the doorway, wanting to stand with my father and brother against the horrible man. As I approach, I see Gabe standing tall, his jaw clenched in defiance.

I stiffen in fear. Blood thunders in my ears and my heart pounds. Surely, I misheard, I tell myself, even though in the back of my mind I know exactly what the sound of a gunbeing cocked sounds like. I"ve even fired a gun once or twice when my father had insisted I learn to protect myself. I hated every moment of it.

"Damien, you promised a long time ago that the business would be turned over to me when I was ready. I am ready now. You"ve gone back on your word."

"Put that thing down," my father says, his voice getting stronger, but I still hear the fear behind his words. "You don"t know what you"re doing."

"I know exactly what you have been doing: preparing the company to be handed over to your son." He scoffs. "As if Gabriel, at twenty-eight, is old enough to run things. You"re delusional."

"Gabe, leave the office, please," Father urges, opening his office door slightly. His eyes almost pop out of his head when he sees me. He doesn"t acknowledge me but tries to push Gabe through the gap.

My stupid brother is having none of it. "The second I leave this room, I am calling the police. You"re out of control, Marcus."

"Hmph, so the kid"s got some backbone, huh?" The sound of the gun going off is loud and echoing.

Father collapses to the floor at my feet. His eyes meet mine. "Run," he hisses. "Now!" I stumble back, terrified. Gabe falls to Father"s side, his fear at seeing me unmistakable.

I meet my brother"s eyes. He moves his lips, but no sound comes out. "Hide."

Another bullet is in the chamber, then my brother curses and falls to his butt. I finally move, running and sliding down the hallway. The gun goes off a second time. Just as I turn toward the stairs, I hear Uncle Marcus shout, "You can"t hide from me, Wilhelmina. Your father and brother are dead."

I cover my mouth to keep from screaming as I flee upstairs. Once in my room, I lock the door and pull a dresser in front of it for extra security. I hear his footsteps getting closer as I desperately try to think. Shoes! I need shoes. I spot my boots and quickly slip my feet into them. I wrap the laces around my ankles and fasten them. The last thing I need is for them to fall off as I climb down the trellis on the wall of the house. My backpack is on the end of my bag, so I grab it and quickly walk to my closet. Reaching up, I pull out an old cosmetic bag that has money inside and shove it into my backpack.

Uncle Marcus is banging on my bedroom door. He yells at me to open it. He"s so angry now. "Stop this childish behavior," he shouts, anger now controlling him. I don"t wait to see what he does. I climb out of my bedroom window. I haven"t done this for a few years, so I hope the wooden bars that hold the vines in place haven"t rotted.

Even though I must hurry before he figures out what I"m doing, I"m careful with my steps as I press myself against the outside wall of the house. This isn"t as much fun as it used to be. I"m about halfway down when I hear two bullets from above. Is he shooting into my room? A loud scraping sound comes from my bedroom, so I know he"s in my room, moving the dresser. I"m out of time. I drop to the floor, crouch down, and roll over to try to protect myself. It works. I scramble to my feet and sprint for the tree line, hoping to find cover before he catches up. The adrenaline pumping through my veins is the only thing keeping me going at this point.

I quickly hide in the bushes off to the side. As the evening light fades into night, he won"t be able to see me if he looks out of my window. But I see him. He is looking for me with the gun in his hand as he leans out of the window. My head is starting to hurt and I"m sweating. I don"t know what to do except get away from the house. My hands shake as I quickly use my phone. Once I"ve finished, I dig a hole with my hands. I empty the money from my cometic bag into the backpack, and turning the phone off, I shove it inside the bag. Then I bury it in the hole. It"s the last place anyone would think of looking.