The Shadows of Mercer Estate

A blinding shower of white-hot sparks rained inward through the keyhole as the industrial torch sliced through the heavy brass deadbolt of Liam’s bedroom door. The smell of burning metal and ozone filled the room, sharp and choking.

"They're burning the lock," I said, my heart slamming against my ribs like a trapped bird. "Liam, if they get in here, we're finished."

Liam didn't hesitate. Despite the excruciating pain screaming through his fractured leg and the freshly torn stitches across his abdomen, he shoved the heavy blankets off his body. With a guttural grunt of pure agony, he swung his legs over the side of the bed, the metal pins of the external fixator clanging loudly against the hardwood floor.

"Liam, what are you doing? You'll tear your leg apart!" I rushed forward to steady him, but he brushed my hands aside with a fierce, immovable determination.

"I've spent five weeks playing their game in this bed," Liam panted, sweat pouring down his forehead, his face pale as death. "I'm not dying on my knees. Help me up, Clara. Now."

Grabbing his left side to take the weight off his ruined right leg, I threw his heavy arm over my shoulder. Together, we staggered toward the private study attached to his bedroom—the one room Vance hadn't bothered searching because it required a biometric scanner that only Liam’s thumbprint could unlock.

Behind us, with a loud, metallic thud, the charred deadbolt gave way, and the heavy double doors crashed open.

Leo stepped into the room, his face half-covered in a crude bandage where I had struck him with the antiseptic bottle, holding a heavy-caliber rifle steady against his shoulder. He stopped dead in his tracks, staring at the empty bed and the open door to the private study.

"You're making a big mistake, Mercer," Leo shouted, raising his rifle as he rushed toward the study doors.

I slammed the heavy mahogany study door shut just as Leo slammed his weight against the outside. I scrambled to turn the internal locking mechanism, sliding a heavy iron bolt into place just as the wood splintered from a kick on the other side.

"The terminal," Liam gasped, leaning heavily against a mahogany desk, his breathing ragged and shallow. He pointed a trembling, sweat-slicked thumb toward a sleek biometric control panel embedded in the wall beside the floor-to-ceiling bookshelves.

I rushed over, pressing Liam’s thumb against the glass scanner.

BEEP.

A soft green light flashed across the console, followed by a mechanical whir as a hidden panel in the bookshelf slid open, revealing a glowing digital mainframe terminal and a heavy master override keyboard.

"Enter the code from the paper," Liam ordered, clutching his bleeding side as he sank heavily into a leather chair.

My fingers flew across the keyboard, punching in the sequence of numbers and letters from the back of my aunt Sarah’s note.

OVERRIDE ACCEPTED. MAIN SYSTEM DISENGAGED.

Across the estate, a series of heavy pneumatic locks hissed open. The electronic gates at the perimeter swung wide, disabling the security grid, and the internal intercom system throughout the mansion crackled to life, broadcasting directly into the west wing guest quarters where Chloe—Liam’s daughter—was still sleeping unaware.

Before Leo could break through the study door with a crowbar, the computer screen flashed a live security camera feed from the west wing hallway.

On the screen, a young woman with dark hair and a familiar pair of amber-framed glasses stepped out of her bedroom door, looking confused and frightened as the hallway alarms silenced themselves.