Page 48 of Her Last Secret

"Please, Alice," Rachel pleaded, feeling a desperate edge creep into her voice despite her efforts to remain calm. "Don't do this. Paige is innocent."

The standoff stretched on, taut as a wire pulled to its breaking point. Rachel knew she had to keep Alice talking, keep her engaged, prevent her focus from slipping further into whatever deranged fantasy had driven her to this moment. She needed to protect Paige, to somehow diffuse the powder keg before them.

"Tell me about the letters, Alice," Rachel said quietly, taking a cautious step forward. "Help me understand."

Alice's eyes flicked to Rachel, the knife wavering ever so slightly. "Alex was going to be mine," Alice's voice broke through the thick silence, carrying a chilling certainty that sent shivers down Rachel's spine. "We were meant to be together. But you... you took him from me." Her eyes glinted with a dangerous blend of madness and grief.

"Meant to be together?" Rachel choked on the words, the pounding in her head syncing with the throb of her racing heart. "He was a monster, Alice. He killed eleven people, he—"

"Those people were nothing!" Alice cut in sharply, her grip on Paige tightening enough to draw a whimper from her. "They were just obstacles. If you hadn't meddled, if you hadn't killed him, we would have had our life! You couldn’t be satisfied with being the one who’d put him in prison in the first place. You had to kill him! You had to take him away from me!"

"Your life?" Rachel's voice was incredulous, even as she fought to keep it steady. "Based on what? Letters exchanged with a serial killer?" She could see the delusion written all over Alice's face, in the way her eyes didn't quite focus, how they seemed to look past Rachel, into a world of their own twisted making. "Alex Lynch was no saint. He murdered my husband in cold blood after his escape. And you think he deserved your love, your loyalty?"

"Shut up!" The two words were like gunshots in the confines of the space, stark against the ominous silence that followed. Rachel could see Alice's resolve waning, the cracks in her facade beginning to show. It was now or never.

"Look at me, Alice." Rachel raised her hands, palms out, showing her empty, unarmed hands. "You wanted me here and now I'm here. Let Paige go. If you're honestly trying to honor Lynch's memory, then let Paige go. Alex never harmed a child. He was a monster but even that seemed too much for him. You know that."

For a heartbeat, there was a flicker of doubt in Alice's eyes—a brief moment where the human behind the madness peeked through. Then, without warning, the moment shattered. With a vicious snarl, Alice shoved Paige hard to the side. The little girl's body hit the wall with a sickening thud before she crumpled to the floor, crying out in pain and fear.

"Paige!" Rachel screamed, her voice laced with terror for her daughter, but she couldn't move—not yet. Every instinct screamed at her to go to Paige, but she knew one wrong move could seal both their fates. Alice stood there, breath heaving, the knife still clutched in her hand, her gaze locked onto Rachel with a challenge written across her twisted features.

"Come on then," Alice spat, her voice dripping with venom. "Show me just how much you love your daughter. See if it’s more than I loved Alex..."

Rachel's mind raced, a maelstrom of fear, anger, and maternal instinct. She had to end this, once and for all, for Paige's sake. For every life that Lynch had taken, including the warped mind of this woman. For Grandma Tate, for the safety of her family. For every night spent jumping at shadows, wondering if the nightmare would ever truly be over.

The rage surged through Rachel like wildfire; a scream tore from her throat as she launched herself at Alice. Paige’s cry still echoed in the chamber of her heart, fueling her reckless abandon. The blade glinted menacingly in Alice's grip, but Rachel's vision tunneled, seeing only the threat to Paige, not the danger to herself.

Muscle met muscle as they collided, Alice's eyes wide with shock at the suddenness of the attack. The floor came up hard, and they scrambled, a tangle of limbs and ferocity. Pain seared across Rachel's arm, sharp and hot, as the knife sliced deep into the top of her left arm. Blood blossomed, warm and wet against her flesh, but the pain was distant, secondary to the adrenaline that flooded her system.

Alice’s hand reared back, preparing to strike with the blade once more. She was so intent on inflicting as much pain as possible that she didn’t understand that she was leaving herself open to an attack; it became abundantly clear in that moment that Alice had never engaged in a fight of this magnitude before.

With Alice’s arm drawn back for another strike, Rachel slammed her fist to the side with all the might that grief and fear had lent her. Her knuckles connected with Alice's cheekbone with a sickening crunch. Alice’s head snapped back, her eyes momentarily losing focus, the knife wavering in her loosened grip.

Alice let out a ferocious, cornered growled, shaking her head to clear the daze of Rachel’s attack. In a move of sheer desperation, Alice drove her knee upward, catching Rachel in the ribs. Pain exploded along Rachel’s left side, a grunt of pain from her lips. Rachel, unbalanced by the blow, felt her weight shift precariously, her advantage teetering on the brink of collapse.

"Stay down!" Rachel spat, her breath heaving as she fought to maintain control. Her mind raced, thoughts jumbled yet singular in purpose – protect Paige, stop Alice, survive. Every strike, every movement was fueled by the instinctual need to fight for her child's life as well as her own. But, as always, Paige was her first concern.

As Rachel regained her balance, grappling for control once again, Alice's arm shot out. The knife’s blade glinted like a sliver of ice in the dim light, aiming for Rachel's exposed throat. But Rachel, fueled by instinct and maternal fury, intercepted the assault. She caught Alice’s moving wrist in an ironclad grip. Rachel’s defiant scream—a raw, guttural cry—echoed through the house as she twisted violently. The sickening snap of bone reverberated in her ears, punctuating the struggle.

Alice's face contorted in agony, but Rachel's anger was unyielding. She saw nothing but Alex Lynch's sick legacy in the eyes of the woman before her, the woman who dared to threaten her child. Rachel struck Alice's face as her body began to absorb the pain of her snapped wrist, bones yielding beneath the force of her clenched fist.

And then Rachel punched again…and again. Once, twice, a third time—the impacts were relentless, driven by a need to end the madness that had invaded her life. Somewhere around the fourth or fifth punch, Rachel began to cry. The anger came flooding out in a wave of emotion that she simply wasn’t ready for.

Alice's body went limp, her resistance fading, but Rachel's hands found a new target. Fingers turned into vices around Alice’s throat, squeezing with all the pent-up terror and rage she’d been holding on to. Rachel's vision blurred, tears mixing with sweat, her headache pounding like a drumbeat, urging her forward, urging her to keep going.

Alice's motionless form lay beneath her, the threat seemingly neutralized, but Rachel found that she couldn't stop. She wanted to and knew that she had to, but she couldn't draw her clutched hands away from the woman's throat. Even when she thought of Paige somewhere nearby watching her closely, she could not stop, teetering on the line between protector and monster. Doubt crept in, cold and insidious, even as her hands trembled with the exertion of restraint. Could she pull herself back from crossing that irreversible boundary?

"Mom?" Paige's small voice pierced the fog of rage, a lifeline thrown into the dark waters of Rachel's fury.

And with it came a shuddering realization—a glimpse of herself through her daughter's eyes. It was enough, just enough, to loosen the vice on Alice's neck, to allow the shadow of humanity to seep back into Rachel's consciousness, guiding her away from the edge of an abyss from which there was no return.

She cried out, letting go of Alice and crawling over to Paige. As she did, she became aware of footsteps behind her. She didn’t have to turn to see who it was. She felt the familiar hands, the familiar arms wrapping around her.

It was Jack, pulling her close and checking on her.

"Rachel!" His voice was a sharp command, cutting through the tension in the air, and she felt his strong hands grasp her shoulders, pulling her back with an urgency that brooked no argument.

The sensation of Jack's touch seemed to break the spell that had ensnared her, the red haze that clouded her vision dissipated, leaving behind the stark, jarring reality of the hallway smeared with signs of struggle.

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