The devil walks in, clad in a bathrobe I’d seen hanging from a hook behind Adrian and Hanna’s upstairs bathroom.

Oh shit.

Damien is gone and Judson has managed not only to run from the police but to catch up with us. We were fools for believing even for a second that the nightmare is over.

“Morning, sunshine. Isn’t it a beautiful day?” He gives me a smile that would fool anyone into thinking he’s a normal, handsome man. He pulls out a gun and places it on the table between the loaf of bread and the orange juice. “I see you haven’t eaten yet. I’m not much of a cook but I put in the effort to prepare breakfast for you. You must be starving. I am.”

I can’t move, can’t breathe, can’t even blink. I was well aware that there was a chance Judson could catch up with us. I never expected it to be so soon. Definitely not in time for breakfast in a house that’s not his, not in Adrian’s bathrobe. It would have been more plausible if he had crashed through the door with his gun, threatening to shoot us in cold blood.

A bubble of fear pushes itself up my throat but I can’t swallow it. My supply of saliva has dried up. Where are Hanna and Adrian? Did he kill them while I slept?

After studying him for a few painful heartbeats, the shock in my system transforms to adrenaline, bringing me back to life. On the outside, my body resembles a block of ice, frozen and unmoving. On the inside, my mind is spinning out of control, scrambling for solutions, searching for ways of escape. My gaze roams the surface of the table. I don’t find what I’m searching for.

“Looking for a knife to attack me with?” Judson reaches for my plate and spoons scrambled eggs on one side before placing a slice of bread next to them. His lips curl into a sadistic smile as he pushes the food toward me. “Don’t waste your time, sweetheart. I know your thoughts before you think them.” He pours me a glass of orange juice. “You’ll love the eggs, by the way. When I was a kid, Mom made the best scrambled eggs. That was, of course, when she wasn’t too drunk to be a mother.” He takes a sip from my orange juice before placing it next to my plate. “I don’t blame her for wanting to escape reality. Being married to a man who made a business of owning and fucking beautiful woman couldn’t have been easy, even when he showered her with expensive gifts.”

“What . . . what did you do to them?” I ask when my voice returns. My hands are curled into fists next to me as I await his response. I don’t need to elaborate because, as he said before, he knows my thoughts.

“You mean Hanna and Adrian? You’ll find out soon enough. First, let’s enjoy a nice breakfast together. Wasn’t that what you always wanted? When we wrote those letters to each other, I read between the lines. I knew you wanted a future with me.” He observes the small kitchen and returns his gaze to me. “You wanted something like this, am I right? A sweet little family with one or two kids running around. You dreamed of us having breakfast together on a Sunday morning. Such a shame that won’t be happening. But we can have this un-rushed moment together.” He piles food onto his own plate. “We can share a meal before it’s time for you to die. I’m sure you understand that I have to kill you.”

“The way you murdered your own brother.” I can’t help treading on dangerous ground.

“Hmmm … I love the fire in your eyes. Well, yes.” He shoves a spoonful of eggs into his mouth, chews in silence and swallows. “He was an inconvenience. When something becomes inconvenient to you, you get rid of it, don’t you agree? It was for the best, trust me.”

While he speaks and eats his food, I continue thinking of ways to escape. If I run from the table, it would be all too easy for him to shoot me in the back before I make it to the door. My only other option is for me to be the first to get my hands on his gun and shoot him before he shoots me. Getting away from him without killing him first is proving to be impossible. I might not be able to survive this ordeal without blood on my hands. It boils down to his life or mine.

He reaches for his gun, pulls it closer to him. “You still haven’t touched your food,” he says, disapproval in his voice. “Isn’t it to your liking?”

Holding a normal conversation with a psychopath is difficult, so I hold my tongue and cross my arms across my chest.

“Why the fuck don’t you quit being a stubborn little bitch? Here I was thinking it would be a kind gesture for me to serve you your last meal before sending you to the grave. Instead you throw it back in my face.” He shoves away his plate. It collides with my glass of orange juice. The orange liquid spills over the rim and taints the white tablecloth. He grabs his gun and pushes back his chair. He gets to his feet.

I jump when he yanks the tablecloth clean off the table along with everything on it. The meal he has prepared ends up a mess on the linoleum floor mixed in with fragments of glass and ceramic. “Get up,” he barks.

“Please, don’t do this,” I beg but his eyes are hard as a marble.

It’s over.

The monster is going to have his way. I’ll be dead by end of day. If even the police can’t stop him, who will be able to? The fear inside my veins is like ice cold water, leaving me a trembling mess with goose pimples all over my skin. My knees knock as I get to my feet with the support of the table’s edge. The last thing I need is for him to revel in my fear, but my body has reached a point where it’s acting on its own.

“Shut the fuck up and go upstairs.” He waves the gun to the door.

As I move ahead of him, I imagine my heart shrinking inch by inch inside my chest. Every step I take hurts. It hurts to move, it hurts to breathe, it even hurts to blink.

Outside the kitchen, I listen to every sound over my thudding heart and cars driving by outside. I listen for the voices of Hanna and Adrian. I hear nothing that brings me a shred of hope.

Feeling Judson’s eyes pinned on the back of my head, I take small steps. I’m not prepared for whatever his poisonous mind has in store for me. Soon he’s fed up with my slow pace and grabs me by the back of my neck, gun on my temple, as he moves me forward together with him, pulling me into an evil dance I don’t want to be a part of. I thought by now I’d know what fear is. But I had no idea. What I feel now is the purest form of fear I’ve ever experienced.

One. Two. Three. Four. I count every step we climb. My hands clutch the banister.

The moment we reach the top of the stairs, I dig my heels in so we come to stop.

“What the fuck are you playing at? I’m tired of this bullshit.” He slams a hand between my shoulder blades. The impact is so hard I stumble. He catches me by the hair before I fall. Ignoring my shrieks, he drags me to Adrian and Hanna’s bedroom door and kicks it open. With the thick velvet blinds drawn, the room is dark.

Judson flicks on the light and pushes me inside. The moment the room swallows me, dread grips the base of my spine.