Chapter 2 - Seven Percent.
Elena slid the phone beneath the panel as the deadbolt turned.
The device had not confirmed delivery.
Its screen still glowed beneath the thin board.
Marcus stepped onto the stairs carrying a paper coffee cup.
He paused halfway down.
His eyes settled on Elena’s left hand.
Dust marked her fingertips.
“What did you touch?”
“Nothing.”
He descended one step at a time.
The cup remained steady in his hand.
Marcus never rushed when he believed someone else had nowhere to go.
Elena shifted her body over the loose panel.
Another contraction tightened low in her pelvis.
She forced herself not to move.
Marcus stopped outside the kennel.
“You were doing something.”
“I was trying to find a position that did not make my spine feel broken.”
“Move.”
“No.”
The word surprised both of them.
Marcus placed the coffee on the floor.
He unlocked the kennel with a key chained to his belt.
Elena’s heartbeat struck painfully against her ribs.
He had not entered since the first night.
He preferred the bars between them because they made his authority visible.
Now he opened the door and stepped inside.
The kennel suddenly felt half its size.
He grabbed Elena’s upper arm.
She twisted away and used the movement to kick the panel deeper beneath the stained blanket.
Marcus saw the blanket shift.
His eyes narrowed.
He pulled it aside.
Only concrete showed.
The phone was hidden beneath the panel, but the charging cable still ran toward the rear bars.
Marcus followed the cable with his gaze.
Elena reached for the rotten apple and crushed it beneath her palm.
Soft pulp spread across the floor.
“What are you doing?” he demanded.
She smeared the pulp over the cable.
“I dropped it.”
Marcus crouched.
The sweet, sour smell filled the cage.
He touched the wet wire.
Elena held her breath.
A vibration buzzed beneath the floor.
The sound lasted less than a second.
Marcus became still.
“What was that?”
“The furnace.”
“The furnace is off.”
He struck the panel with his fist.
The edge lifted.
Elena moved before thought could stop her.
She drove her shoulder into Marcus and pushed him toward the bars.
He stumbled, more shocked than hurt.
She reached for the phone.
Marcus caught her ankle and dragged her backward.
The contraction broke into sharp pressure.
Elena screamed.
It was not the scream he expected.
Water spread beneath her legs.
For the first time since locking her downstairs, Marcus looked afraid.
“No,” he whispered.
Elena curled around her belly.
“My water broke.”
Marcus released her.
His face emptied as calculations raced behind his eyes.
The baby was not supposed to arrive yet.
He had chosen the date carefully.
Two more days, and the documents at St. Catherine’s Hospital would be changed.
Two more days, and the private adoption record would disappear.
Two more days, and Elena’s scheduled induction would become a story about an emergency in Vermont.
The phone vibrated again.
Marcus ripped up the panel.
On the glowing screen were two words.
MESSAGE DELIVERED.
He stared at them.
Then he stared at Elena.
“Who?”
She smiled through the pain.
“My sister.”
Marcus crushed the phone beneath his shoe.
The screen cracked.
A siren wailed somewhere beyond the house.
It could have been blocks away.
It could have been coming closer.
Marcus grabbed the kennel key.
Elena caught his sleeve.
He looked down at her hand.
“You cannot leave me here in labor.”
“I can do anything I need to do.”
He tore free and slammed the kennel door.
The lock clicked.
Upstairs, he began moving quickly.
Cabinets opened.
A drawer crashed.
The garage door rose.
Elena gripped the bars through another contraction.
The siren grew louder.
Then it stopped.
Silence settled over the basement.
Elena did not know whether help had arrived or Marcus had escaped.
A heavy impact shook the door upstairs.
A man shouted.
“Police!”
The basement door burst inward.
An officer in dark tactical clothing appeared with a body camera and handgun held low.
He saw the kennel.
He saw Elena.
His expression changed.
“Police,” he ordered.
“Don’t move.”
May you like
Marcus stood behind the officer at the top of the stairs.
He was holding a kitchen knife against Claire’s throat.
