Jordan writhed beneath him, adrenaline surging one last time. She kicked wildly, her heel connecting with his shin. He snarled, tightening his grip around her throat. Air cut off. Her vision tunneled, black creeping in from the edges. She clawed at his face, her nails raking deep lines down his cheek, but he didn’t flinch. His eyes bore into hers, cold and merciless. “This is your mother’s fault,” he whispered. “She turned you against me. She made you weak. But I’ll fix it. I’ll fix you.” Jordan’s body screamed for oxygen. Her arms flailed, weakening, her legs thrashing less and less. Darkness closed in. But somewhere, beneath the panic, a memory surfaced: Ceri’s face, bloody and terrified, shoving her daughter out the door. Her last words echoing: Run, Jordan. Run. No. She wouldn’t let it end like this. With the last ounce of her strength, Jordan wrenched one hand free and slammed her thumb into his eye. Brian roared, recoiling, his grip loosening for a fraction of a second. Jordan gasped, dragging air into her bruised lungs. She shoved him back, scrambling toward the fallen wrench. Her hand closed around it. She swung again, smashing it into his temple. Brian grunted, staggering, but didn’t fall. Instead, his rage only grew. With a bellow, he tore the wrench from her grip and hurled it aside. Then his knife appeared — she hadn’t seen it until now, glinting in the dim light, the same blade he’d used on her mother. “No—” The blade plunged down. Agony ripped through her abdomen as steel tore into flesh. Jordan’s scream broke into a ragged wail. Hot blood spilled across her hands as she tried to push him away. Brian’s face hovered above hers, calm once more, as though the act brought him peace. “Shh,” he murmured. “It’s okay now. You’ll see. You’ll thank me in the end.” He twisted the knife. Jordan’s vision exploded with white-hot pain. Her body convulsed beneath him, blood pooling fast around her. Tears streamed down her cheeks, mingling with the blood on her lips. Her mother’s voice echoed in her head. Not your fault, baby. Not your fault. But Jordan no longer believed it. Her body weakened, trembling violently. Her fingers twitched against the cold floor. She tried to lift her arm, to fight again, but her strength was gone. Brian leaned closer, pressing his forehead to hers. “Now it’s just us,” he whispered. Her eyes fluttered, heavy, the light fading. Her last thought was of Ceri — not of the night she died, but of a memory years ago, her mother humming softly as she brushed Jordan’s hair, whispering, One day, we’ll be free. Then the darkness swallowed her.