Page 35 of The Retreat

“But when Harlan finds out she’s pregnant…” I shiver, unable to shake the chilling fear that’s dogged me ever since Ava told me the news yesterday. “I’m scared of what he’ll do to her.”

“To both of you.” He cups my cheek and I lean into his hand. “We know he’ll somehow find a way to blame you for this.” His lips compress and the tender glint in his eyes hardens. “I won’t let him do anything to harm either of you.”

I want to believe in Spencer so badly. I like to think he has the power to go up against someone like Harlan. But a small part of me knows these are empty promises. What can Spencer do against the might of Harlan?

“Will you be okay?” He envelops me in his arms and I nod against his chest.

“Thanks for always being here for me,” I murmur, and he strokes my head in response, smoothing my hair in comforting rhythmic caresses that allow me to believe for a few brief moments that he’s right and everything will work out.

But all too soon he releases me, and I head back to the house. As I enter, I hear raised voices from the second floor, and my blood freezes. Harlan is ranting, yelling ‘whore’ and ‘slut’, and I take the stairs two at a time.

As I reach the top landing, Ava rushes past me, tears streaming down her face as she descends the stairs and disappears out the front door.

I want to go after her, but I need to deal with my husband first. He can’t treat Ava like that.

“Don’t you ever call our daughter filthy names again.” I jab my finger in his direction, fear making my hand shake as he advances toward me.

“Did you know?”

I tilt my chin up, not giving him the satisfaction of seeing how much he intimidates me. “Know what?”

“Don’t play dumb with me.” He backhands me so fast I stagger, grateful for the railing against my back so I don’t fall at his feet. The pain is blinding and I blink rapidly so I can avoid another hit, or worse. My cheek throbs in time with the blood pounding in my ears as a fury I’ve never experienced before fills me.

It’s the first time he’s struck me and, in a warped way, it gives me power. Now I have an excuse to set my rage free.

“Do both of you think I’m an idiot? She didn’t touch her wine last night at dinner and now I find her throwing up for the second morning in a row because of a ‘virus’.” He makes inverted comma signs with his fingers. “Why didn’t you tell me she was pregnant?”

“It’s not my place to tell you—”

He hits me again, this time an open slap to the side of my head. I’m dizzy for a moment, reeling from the impact, as my mouth fills with the coppery taste of blood, but something inside me snaps.

“Does hitting me make you feel better, Harlan? Because if so, go ahead, get it out of your system, because I’ll make sure you never lay a finger on our daughter.”

Surprise widens his eyes. “What are you talking about?”

“I know you killed your parents. I know you make workers who steal gold from the shipwreck disappear. And I’ll be damned if something happens to Ava.”

I’m yelling, sweat trickling down my back, my body so hot I feel like I could combust at any second.

In contrast, Harlan’s deadly cool alerts me I’ve gone too far. “So you know huh?” He slow claps, his creepy grin making me take a step sideways so I can bolt down the stairs if needed. “Well done, detective. Surely you’ve learned by now I can do anything I want and nobody can stop me?”

He throws his arm wide, encompassing this oppressive house. “I’m the only one who can take Arcania to the next level, to the greatness it deserves. And no whoring daughter of mine will taint its name.”

“I said don’t call her that.”

I take a step forward, and he has the audacity to laugh in my face.

“It’s no great surprise, really. Her mother’s a whore, stands to reason Ava inherited that from you.”

His upper lip curls in a sneer as he turns his back on me and descends the first step.

Red spots dance before my eyes, blurring my vision. I let the rage expand into every cell of my body, and my muscles twitch and flex, ready to fight.

I swear I lift out of my body and I’m looking down on myself as I place my hands in the middle of his back and push. Hard.

Detached, I watch him tumble down the stairs.

I savor every bump, every crack, every snap, until he’s lying in a crumpled heap at the bottom, his eyes open and glassy.

---