Chapter 24 - Blood Never Lies
The sound of shattering glass tore through the ground floor of the house.
It came from the rear kitchen patio doors. The heavy crash was immediately followed by the high-pitched, deafening wail of the home intrusion alarm, its siren pulsing through the ceiling like a rhythmic war drum.
Maya screamed, burying her face into Leah’s neck.
"David!" Leah cried out, dropping the duffel bag she was packing.
"Stay behind me!" David reached into his nightstand and unlocked the biometric gun safe. He pulled out his Glock 19, racked the slide back with a mechanical clack, and chambered a 9mm hollow-point round.
The security company’s automated voice began blaring through the intercom speakers: *WARNING. PERIMETER BREACH DETECTED. AUTHORITIES HAVE BEEN NOTIFIED.*
David didn't trust the authorities. In this rural pocket of the county, the sheriff’s response time was twenty minutes on a good night. They were entirely on their own.
David stepped out into the hallway, weapon held at low-ready, his back pressed against the drywall. The smell of cold night air and shattered glass was already wafting up the stairwell. Heavy, unhurried footsteps sounded on the hardwood stairs.
*Thump. Thump. Thump.*
Whoever was coming up wasn't running. They weren't hiding. They were climbing the stairs with the steady, predatory confidence of an owner inspecting their property.
"David," a calm, smooth masculine voice called out over the blaring siren. "You don't need the gun, little brother. Put it down before you hurt yourself."
David’s finger tightened on the trigger. "Stop right there! Take one more step and I swear to God I’ll shoot!"
A figure emerged onto the second-floor landing.
He stood under the hallway lights, and David felt the world tilt on its axis. The resemblance was uncanny, almost biological science fiction. The man had the same broad shoulders, the same dark hair, the same slight crook in his nose from a childhood fall. But while David’s eyes were filled with desperate exhaustion, this man’s eyes were bright with a manic, crystalline clarity.
"Who are you?" David shouted, keeping the sights of the gun centered on the man's chest.
"I’m Julian," the man said simply, opening his empty hands in a peaceful gesture. "Julian Vance. Evelyn’s firstborn. The son she hid away in Europe when my father threatened to put her in an asylum thirty years ago."
"You're lying!" David yelled. "My mother never had another child!"
Julian laughed—a low, melodic sound that chilled David to his marrow. It was Evelyn’s laugh. The exact same cadence, the exact same mocking undertone.
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"Mother lied to you about everything, David. She told you our father died of a heart attack, didn't she? She told you she was your protector." Julian took a slow half-step forward. "She didn't just escape Oakridge today, David. She orchestrated her escape to come see her granddaughter. And I'm here to clear the way."
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