Page 31 of Enduring Promise

Russ felt his heart pounding in his chest, the thin thread of restraint he’d been clinging to unraveling rapidly. He wanted to storm upstairs and put an end to this charade, but Hillary’s hand on his arm kept him anchored. Her knuckles were white, her grip as tense as his.

Claire hesitated. “And if I can’t? If it gets too big to contain?”

Michael scoffed again, the sound bitter and dismissive. “You think I don’t have contingency plans? I’ve dealt with biggerproblems than a grieving family or a nosy journalist. They can be bought off, silenced, discredited. Whatever it takes to protect the work.”

“Silenced?” Claire repeated, her voice catching. “What do you mean by that?”

“You know what I mean,” Michael said, his tone icy. “If someone becomes a threat, they’re dealt with. It’s that simple. I don’t expect you to get your hands dirty, Claire, but don’t pretend you’re naïve enough not to know how these things work.”

The room below erupted in murmurs, the shocked voices of the guests rising despite their attempts to keep quiet. Russ’s body tensed further, his fists clenching and unclenching as he stared at the intercom.

“I’m just trying to process all of this,” Claire said. “You thought I was turning on you by coming up here. Did you ever think of dealing with me? Silencing me? Was I in the crosshairs?”

Michael laughed. “Do you think that barn burst into flames on its own? Come on, you had to at least consider the fact that there was some connection.”

Claire’s voice came through again, quieter now but laced with determination. “I didn’t even consider it,” she lied. “I guess that’s where I fall short. Michael, you’ve always been the one with the vision. I just... I want to make sure I’m doing my part. That I’m helping you. What’s the next step? How do we protect everything we’ve built?”

Michael’s sigh was audible through the intercom, followed by a creak of floorboards as he paced. “The next step is making sure we stay ahead of everyone else. We control the narrative, keep the data clean, and eliminate any risks. That’s why you need to stop second-guessing me, Claire. If you’re not fully committed, you’re a liability. And I don’t keep liabilities around.”

The threat in his words was unmistakable, and the tension in the room below reached a breaking point. Russ surged forward, breaking free of Hillary’s grip, but she stepped in front of him, her eyes fierce.

“Not yet,” she hissed. “She’s so close. Don’t blow this.”

Russ gritted his teeth, his body trembling with the effort it took to hold himself back. He could hear Claire’s voice again, quieter now, almost a whisper.

“I understand,” she said. “I just need to know you trust me, Michael. That we’re in this together.”

Michael’s tone softened slightly, but it was still condescending. “Of course I trust you, Claire. I wouldn’t have brought you this far if I didn’t. But you need to stop doubting me. Stop doubting us. We’re making history here. And history isn’t made without sacrifices. Now, we’re finally alone in this dusty museum of a house. How about you show me how loyal you are to me. How about you show me how much you’re willing to submit.”

Russ couldn’t take it anymore. “We have enough,” he muttered under his breath. “I’m going up there.”

Hillary didn’t stop him this time. Instead, she nodded, her expression grim. “Be careful,” she whispered.

Russ didn’t need to be told twice. He turned and strode toward the stairs, his footsteps heavy and purposeful as the voices from the intercom continued to echo in his ears.

What he didn’t expect was a crowd of people flooding in behind him. He’d thought he’d make his way up to the library and confront Michael, man to man. Now there seemed to be at least twenty people behind him clamoring to be a part of this confrontation.

When they reached the library, he tried to open the door but it was locked. The only key was inside with Claire and Michael.Russ banged on the door, demanding they open it. There was only silence on the other side. Terrifying silence.

CHAPTER 30

Russ’s fists slammed against the heavy wooden door, the sound reverberating down the hallway. “Claire!” he shouted; his voice raw with urgency. “Claire, open the door!”

The silence on the other side was suffocating. Russ banged again, harder this time, his desperation mounting. The crowd behind him murmured anxiously, their unease rippling through the hallway like static electricity. Among them were childhood friends of Claire, distant cousins, and even strangers who had only known her through brief introductions at the party. Yet here they all were, united in their determination to act.

Russ turned to face them, his jaw tight. “We need to break this door down,” he said, his voice firm and commanding.

A young man near the front—a wiry guy in his late twenties who introduced himself earlier as a childhood friend of Claire’s—stepped forward. “There’s an iron coat rack by the stairwell,” he offered. “It’s sturdy enough to use as a battering ram.”

Russ nodded, his gratitude unspoken but clear. “Go get it. Now.”

The man took off at a sprint, disappearing down the hall. Russ turned back to the door, pressing his ear against it, straining to catch any sound from inside.

There was nothing—no voices, no movement, just an unnerving silence that made his skin crawl.

“Claire!” he called again, his voice cracking slightly. “If you can hear me, say something!”

Still nothing.

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