Chapter 7 - The Basement Trap
I did not wait for Marcus to argue with me.
I threw myself into the driver's seat of his car and sped toward my mother's estate.
The tires squealed as I swerved through the quiet, affluent neighborhood, ignoring every stop sign.
I parked three houses down and sprinted across the frozen manicured lawns, keeping to the shadows.
My mother's house was entirely dark, except for a single dim light glowing from the basement window.
I crept toward the heavy wooden cellar doors located at the back of the property.
The padlock had been hastily secured, but it was old and rusted.
I picked up a heavy garden stone and smashed it repeatedly against the metal lock until it shattered.
I pulled the heavy doors open and descended the concrete stairs into the pitch-black basement.
The smell of damp earth and old cardboard boxes filled my lungs.
I clicked on my phone's flashlight, sweeping the narrow beam across the cavernous room.
Emma and Noah were huddled in the far corner, shivering violently beneath a thin blanket.
I rushed over, dropping to my knees and pulling them both into a desperate, crushing embrace.
Noah sobbed against my shoulder, whispering that Uncle Brent had locked them down here hours ago.
I quickly checked them for injuries, relieved to find they were just cold and frightened.
I told them we needed to be completely silent as we climbed back up the stairs.
We were halfway to the cellar exit when the overhead fluorescent lights suddenly flickered and buzzed to life.
My mother was standing at the top of the concrete stairs, blocking our only way out.
She was holding a sleek black handgun, and her hand was not shaking at all.
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She looked down at us with eyes completely devoid of any maternal warmth.
"You really should have just stayed in jail, Julia," she whispered coldly.
