I thought my husband was protecting me when I passed out at his parents’ house, until I heard his father say, “We gave her a little more this time.”

The emergency sirens began to blare through the house—a deafening, high-pitched screech accompanied by flashing red strobe lights.

Heavy steel security shutters began to descend over the ground-floor doors and windows with a low, hydraulic groan.

I ran toward the kitchen.

The service entrance near the pantry was used by the catering staff. It had a manual emergency override bar on the interior—a fire safety feature required by state law that Daniel couldn't override from his master panel.

I threw my weight against the silver crash bar.

CLANG.

The heavy metal door burst open. The freezing night rain hit me like a wall of ice, instantly soaking my nightgown and hair.

I scrambled out into the raging storm, my bare feet cutting against the sharp gravel of the driveway.

Behind me, the house lights were blazing like a lighthouse. I heard the garage doors opening, the heavy roar of an SUV engine coming to life.

I didn't head for the main gate—I knew the security guards were stationed there with dogs.

Instead, I ran toward the coastal path—a narrow, treacherous dirt track that wound along the cliffside down toward the public harbor two miles away.

The rain was coming down in sheets, visibility reduced to less than ten feet. The ocean screamed below me, white waves crashing against the jagged black rocks like hungry jaws.

My bare feet slipped on the mud. I fell hard onto my hands and knees, sharp stones biting into my skin, but I forced myself back up, clutching my stomach with one hand and the red folder with the other.

“I won't let them take you,” I sobbed into the howling wind, pressing my hand against my belly. “I won't let them touch you.”

Behind me, sweeping beams of light cut through the dark rain.

The black SUV was driving slowly along the upper perimeter fence, its high-powered searchlight scanning the brush.

“CLAIRE!” Daniel’s voice boomed through a vehicle megaphone, distorted by the wind. “YOU CANNOT SURVIVE THAT PATH IN THIS STORM! YOU ARE HYPOTHERMIC! COME BACK!”

I plunged deeper into the pine woods lining the cliff edge, the dense branches tearing at my nightgown and scratching my arms.

My lungs burned. My core temperature was plunging rapidly; my teeth were chattering so violently I could barely keep my jaw closed.

I kept moving for twenty agonizing minutes, guided only by the dim, distant lights of the municipal harbor below.

Then my foot caught a slick tree root.

I tumbled forward, rolling down a steep embankment, crashing through thorny bushes before slamming hard against a wooden fence post at the base of the hill.

I lay in the mud, gasping for air, bright spots dancing before my eyes.

A sharp, stabbing pain shot through my lower abdomen.

I let out a weak whimpering cry, wrapping both arms securely around my stomach.

“No…” I prayed into the wet grass. “Please, God, no… not now…”

Through the rain, I heard the sound of heavy boots crunching through the gravel road on the other side of the fence.

Flashlights flickered through the trees.

“She came down the embankment!” a man’s voice called out. “Over here!”

I forced myself up onto my knees, my whole body shaking uncontrollably.

I looked up.

A small, battered yellow pickup truck was parked beside a closed bait shop fifty yards down the road. A tall man in a heavy rubber raincoat was throwing crates of ice into the back bed.