I waited a few seconds, then bolted for the stairs.
On the ground floor, I pressed my back flat against the wall and slinked down the corridor, hiding in the shadows. I spotted two guards by the front door, another by the entrance to the pool. My best bet was to use the kitchen entrance and hope Nick was on his smoke break. I had it all timed out, down to the last second. My plan would work as long as the new guard was as predictable as usual.
The under-cabinet lights illuminated the butler’s kitchen, casting a soft glow on the tiled floor. I gripped the doorknob and sucked in a deep breath as I turned it. Nick wasn’t at his post, as I had expected. Thankfully, he stuck to his routine.
After I closed the door behind me, I crept along the side of the house, clutching the strap of my bag. The faint scent of clove cigarettes wafted through the air. Nick walked the perimeter, his trail of smoke lingering. I waited for the cameras to move before I hauled ass to the edge of the property and hid behind a tall hedge.
I reached the gate that spanned the length of the property, staring up at the iron beast with a sigh. The front entrance wasn’t an option, not with all the guards on duty. So I climbed the fence on the west side. This was my least favorite part. The last time, I ripped open my pants and bled right through the jeans.
Climbing with a purpose, I forced myself not to look down. I wasn’t afraid of heights, but it was still a steep drop. At the top of the wrought iron fence, I slung my leg over the side before I took the final plunge. My pulse pounded as my feet hit the ground. Falling to the side, I grabbed the iron bars and hoisted myself up.
I bolted across the neighbor’s lawn, careful to avoid the motion sensor lights. If I was lucky, my father was too drunk by now to worry about me. He never took an interest in my life. After my mother’s tragic death, he withdrew from me and often said I looked too much like her. I was her twin, down to my reckless nature.
He thought that sending me away would help shape my future, that I would stop acting out and being a pain in his ass. But, deep down inside, I knew I gave him hell because it was the only way to get his attention. The only time he did more than glance in my direction.
I ran through the streets of Beacon Bay until I reached Main Street. The town square was desolate at this hour, nothing more than a few drunken people staggering away from The River Styx. It was the only place open after midnight. Beacon Bay had an ordinance that forced all stores, except for bars, to close by ten o’clock.
I cut down the dark alleyway on the side of The River Styx, ignoring the men outside smoking. They whistled at me as I walked past them. Keeping my head down, I maintained a steady pace, headed toward the wooded area that led to the beach. Cillian was a Founder and lived on Founders Way. It was a gated subdivision of Devil’s Creek with seaside mansions that overlooked the bay. People in Beacon Bay called it Billionaire Row because only a handful of the world’s wealthiest families lived there.
You had to pass through a guarded military reinforced gate to visit the Founders. But a few of us knew the secret pathway through the woods. Moving through the dense underbrush, I ducked under fallen branches, swatting at leaves in my face. I could hear the bay moving from a distance as I cut between Beacon Bay and Devil’s Creek, taking the path which led straight to Finnegan’s Rock.
A few minutes later, I propped my back against the rock and waited for Cillian, holding the backpack against my chest. Nerves shook through me. My hand trembled as I felt the outline of the gun through the fabric. The safety was on, a bullet in the chamber. When I was twelve, my dad showed me how to shoot for the first time. Back then, I thought the gun felt like it weighed a hundred pounds. Now, I was so used to the feel of the metal in my hands it was like a second skin to me.
Still, I had never taken a life before.
But what choice did I have?
Cillian would never leave me alone.
Not until he possessed me.
I could have told my dad, but what good would that have done? He was the reason I was in this mess. Dad would have handed me to Cillian on a silver platter to get rid of me.