The room was pitch black until she fumbled for the switch on the generator. With a sputter, dim light flickered overhead, painting the chamber in pale yellow glow. Her eyes darted to the door — a thick slab of reinforced steel with a narrow glass panel. She forced herself to her feet, swaying as her legs trembled. She pressed her forehead against the glass, peering down the hallway. Empty. No movement. Her breath fogged the glass. She leaned closer. Closer. A chill touched the back of her neck. Jordan froze. “See?” a voice whispered in her ear, warm and familiar and wrong. “You can’t hide from me.” Jordan spun around. The safe room was small — there was nowhere he could have been hiding. Yet somehow, impossibly, her father was standing behind her. His tall, broad figure filled the space, his face half-lit by the weak generator light. Brian Taylor. His dark eyes were fixed on her, sharp and unyielding. A smirk curved across his mouth, as if he’d been waiting for this moment all along. “You’ve grown,” he said softly, almost with pride. “Not a little girl anymore. But you’re still mine, Jordan. You’ll always be mine.” Her chest tightened. “You’re not supposed to be here.” Her voice came out cracked, fragile. He chuckled, low and cruel. “Supposed to? Since when did rules keep me away from my family?” Jordan backed toward the far wall, her hands groping for the generator panel, for anything she could use as a weapon. Her fingertips brushed the cold metal of the mounted gun case, locked with a code she couldn’t remember in her panic. Brian tilted his head, studying her with an almost tender expression. “I missed you, sweetheart. I missed us. Your mother… she ruined everything. Poisoned what we had. Always whispering in your ear, making you afraid of me.” “She was protecting me!” The words burst out before Jordan could stop them, her voice shaking with fury. “Protecting me from you.” His smile twitched, soured. He stepped closer, the air between them thick with his presence. “Protecting you?” He spat the word like it was filth. “She was weak. Sick. She didn’t deserve you. She filled your head with lies. She thought she could take you away from me. But I saved you, Jordan. Don’t you see? I killed her because I had to. For you.” The memory flashed in her mind — her mother’s scream, the knife, blood spraying across the kitchen tiles. Jordan squeezed her eyes shut, shaking her head violently. “No. No, you butchered her. You slaughtered her!” Brian’s smile widened, disturbingly calm. “And yet… here you are. Alive. Because of me.” Jordan’s legs trembled. Her chest heaved with shallow breaths. Her father’s words sank into her skull, mixing with the guilt she already carried. If she had fought harder, if she had saved Ceri, maybe her mother would still be alive. Maybe Brian was right — maybe she had survived because Ceri had died. Her throat tightened until it hurt. She forced herself to speak, her voice raw. “You don’t get to twist this. You don’t get to rewrite what you did. You killed her. You ruined everything. You’re the one who’s sick.” Brian stepped closer, slow, deliberate. His shadow loomed across her. “No, sweetheart. I gave you a gift. Freedom. And now it’s just you and me again. The way it should have been all along.” Jordan’s back hit the cold wall. There was nowhere left to move. Her hand brushed the backup generator casing, shaking violently as she fumbled along its edge. She needed the panic button. She needed to call for help.