Chapter 8: The Ashes of Summer
Chapter 8: The Ashes of Summer
The Vale summer house sat on a remote cliffside, battered by the ocean winds.
It was supposed to be abandoned. But as my father picked the lock on the back door,
I noticed the security cameras were still blinking red.
“Be quick,” my father muttered, slipping his gun from its holster.
Claire stayed near the entrance, acting as our lookout. The inside of the house was draped in white sheets, like a graveyard of expensive memories.
We found the grand piano in the living room, illuminated by the pale moonlight cutting through the bay windows.
I dropped to my knees, feeling along the hardwood floorboards underneath the pedals. My fingers caught a groove. I pried the wood up.
There, wrapped in black velvet, was a small steel lockbox. “I’ve got it,” I whispered. Suddenly, a blinding light flooded the room.
The chandelier overhead flickered to life.
I shielded my eyes, my heart dropping to my stomach. At the top of the grand staircase stood Helena Vale.
She was dressed impeccably in white, holding a silver revolver aimed directly at my chest.
Two armed men stepped out from the shadows of the dining room, cutting off my father.
“You really think you’re the first person to try and take this from me, Evelyn?
” Helena’s voice was like ice.
My father raised his weapon, but he was outnumbered.
May you like
Claire was trapped outside. We were trapped inside. “Put the box down,”
Helena commanded. I held the velvet tightly. “No.”
