My daughter’s trembling finger was pointed straight at the old man in the light blue shirt.
My father.
He stood completely still, his jovial smile melting into a cold, dead stare.
“Daddy,” Lily whispered, her voice barely a breath. “Grandpa said if I didn’t play his hunting game, he’d put you in the ground.”
The air in the garden vanished. I looked down at Tessa, still sprawled on the grass. She wasn’t smirking anymore. She was weeping.
“I tried to grab her,” Tessa choked out, clutching her bruised jaw. “The marks on her arm… that was me pulling her away from him! I played it off as a joke so he wouldn’t realize I caught him. You idiot, I was trying to get her to my car!”
Horror punched the breath from my lungs. I had just struck the only person trying to save my little girl.
“Don’t ruin the party,” my mother repeated by the exit.
But this time, her tone wasn’t annoyed. It was a command. She slid a heavy iron deadbolt across the tall garden gate, locking us in. The *click* echoed like a gunshot.
The casual chatter of the guests suddenly died out. Slowly, in terrifying unison, every single person at the garden party turned to face us. They weren’t sipping wine anymore. They were waiting for an order.
My father stepped forward, casually unbuttoning the cuffs of his blue shirt.
“Tessa always was a weak link,” he sighed, picking up a heavy iron gardening shear from the hedge. “And you always were too stubborn.”
I pulled Lily tight against my chest, my blood turning to ice, my muscles coiled to snap. There was no exit. Just me, my daughter, and a garden full of monsters.
“Close your eyes, baby,” I whispered.