Page 46 of If You Go
“Right, loves,” Bridget says, voice low and iron-calm, “eyes up an’ mouths shut. If ye hear me say ‘down cellar’, ye move before ye think. D’ye understand?” Her brogue thickens when it matters. It steadies me.
Then the cameras flash, calling my focus to the wall of monitors. Headlights. Four cars at the gate.
They’re just sitting there—engines idling, white light bleeding through the trees like ghosts waiting for permission. I don’t recognize the vehicles, but my stomach knows who they belong to.
They haven’t breached yet. Not yet. But we are ready for them, and something inside me says let them come.
“Stay here,” I tell Bridget and the others. My voice sounds steady. That’s good. It doesn’t feel steady, but it sounds it.
Then I run.
Back through the hallway, across the polished floor of the living room, breath tight in my chest. Brenden’s already there, pulling people out of their rooms, shouting orders in that low voice that makes people listen. Richie’s half-joking to keepAlisha from spinning out; Hazel has both hands on Juniper’s shoulders, eyes bright, jaw set.
“This way!” I call, waving them toward the hallway. “Down, then right. Open vault door—get inside!”
I start for the stairs, but Brenden catches my arm. The look in his eyes says what his mouth doesn’t: Where the hell do you think you’re going?
“I need shoes and real pants,” I hiss. I glance down. Over sized T-shirt. Leggings. Literally nothing else.
His jaw flexes. “I’m coming with you.” No room for argument. He grabs my hand and shouts for Josh to stay with Bridget, to get everyone inside and sealed.
We take the stairs two at a time, somewhere between a run and a prayer. The house smells like lemon oil and danger. My room feels too far away, every hallway longer than it should be. Papa always said houses remember footsteps; tonight the manor is learning ours again.
We burst inside. I grab the first pair of pants I see, socks, and a bra. Brenden snatches my shoes from the door. I’m bending to step in when—
Everything goes black.
The lights cut out. The hum of the house dies. For one heartbeat, the silence is total.
“Fuck.” The word slips out before I can stop it. “They breached the gates. Power’s cut—it’s a failsafe. Everything runs on the mechanical grid. It’ll slow them down, but not for long. We’ve got four minutes, tops.”
He squeezes my hand. No panic in him—just motion. I drag the socks on, shove my feet into shoes. He slings my bra over his shoulder like it’s a spare magazine, grabs my hand firmly, and we run.
The last stair is in sight when the first sound hits—cars, close. Too close. Tires on gravel, the growl of engines, the hiss of wet stone.
“How the hell—” I don’t finish. We’re already moving.
Josh is waiting at the vault, door cracked. We dive through, and he slams it shut. The lock thunders home, echoing through my bones.
“What the fuck,” Brenden snaps, breath ragged. “How are they already at the doors?”
“Because they knew the road,” Bridget answers, pale but focused. “Drove it like they’d done it before.”
No one says it, but we’re all thinking it: they’ve been here.
“Ye can’t fly drones this close,” she adds quickly. “The EM field blocks the signal, so they can’t spy that way. This isn’t random. They were told.”
“Our phones,” Alisha blurts out. My stomach drops.
“Possibly,” Bridget says. She doesn’t sugarcoat it. “Or the foreman on the outer road. People break under the wrong sort of ask.”
The only light comes from the monitors, painting our faces in cold blue. The front of the house—headlights still, unmoving. Then, a flicker of motion. Shadows.
“There.” Josh points to a smaller monitor—the back door off the kitchen. The old service entrance. They’re in the house.
“They’re already inside,” I whisper. How the fuck did they get in without us hearing it?
“Kitchen door’s a double seal,” I murmur, brain flicking through schematics I thought I’d forgotten. “If the outer lock is jammed, the inner pin can be teased with a thin driver. Papa kept that flaw on purpose—‘for family if the power goes.’” I swallow. “Gavin knows old Irish men. He’d guess.”
