Chapter 2 - Shadows in the Dark
For a agonizing few seconds, I couldn't draw breath. The touch lingered, tracing the curve of my waist with an intimacy that made my stomach churn with violent revulsion. My instinct screamed at me to cry out, to leap across the bed and shake Marcus awake, but a primal sense of caution froze my vocal cords.
I forced myself to stay completely motionless, breathing shallowly through my nose while my eyes adjusted further to the gloom. The amber glow from the dresser cast long, distorted shadows across the ceiling, framing the heavy oak furniture like prison bars.
The hand withdrew slowly from my back, retreating into the space between us. A second later, I heard the faint, sickening rustle of bedsheets.
In the dim light, I risked a millimeter turn of my head, keeping my cheek pressed flat against the crisp hotel cotton of the pillow. Through my lowered lashes, I looked toward the center of the mattress.
My father-in-law was not lying on his back anymore.
He had turned onto his side, facing my direction. In the darkness, his eyes—wide open, unblinking, and entirely devoid of sleep—were staring straight at the back of my head. The amber light caught the pale glint of his iris, glinting with a cold, calculating awareness that shattered any lingering illusion that he had been fast asleep.
My blood ran cold. He hadn't accidentally brushed against me. He had been testing me, checking to see if I was awake, watching my reaction like a predator tracking a cornered animal.
Think, I told myself, my heart hammering against my ribs like a trapped bird. If I confront him now, what happens? He'll claim it was part of the ritual, that I misunderstood, and Marcus—gullible, brainwashed Marcus—will side with his father.
I needed proof. I needed to know what kind of nightmare I had willingly walked into by saying "I do" under these historic stone arches.
Slowly, with agonizing millimeter precision, I slid my right hand beneath my pillow, my fingers brushing against the cold plastic screen of my smartphone. My heart hammered so loudly in my ears I was certain both men could hear it. If I could just angle the camera, record whatever came next, I would have the leverage to blow this insane family dynamic wide open before the sun came up.
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Just as my trembling fingers found the power button, the grandfather clock in the hallway outside chimed the first stroke of three a.m.—and my father-in-law’s hand reached out across the mattress once more, this time gripping my shoulder with bone-crushing strength.
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