Chapter 1
Elle left Henry standing on the front porch.
She left the front door open.
She ran back toward the kitchen— and her bare feet splashed.
Cold water.
She looked down.
She was standing ankle‑deep in lake water. Inside the house.
The water was rising fast, creeping across the hardwood floor, swallowing the rug, climbing toward her calves.
Elle’s breath caught. She ran toward the kitchen, each stride splashing louder than the last.
Before she reached it, she heard Marina shout from inside:
“Что бы ты ни делала, любовь моя, не двигайся.” Whatever you do, my love, don’t move.
Elle skidded into the kitchen.
A knife—one of the sharp steak knives—hung suspended in mid‑air, perfectly still, pointed directly at Nadia’s face.
An inch away.
Nadia didn’t flinch. Her voice was calm, almost dry. “I would not think of moving, Marina. Your tone suggests it would be bad. When you get a moment, please share why my feet are freezing in cold water. It’s causing me to have to pee.”
The kitchen was already deep in water.
Mae sat in the same chair she had been in earlier— but her eyes were different now.
Black pools. Bottomless. Wrong.
She smiled.
Not her usual shy, grateful smile.
Something else. Something cold.
“Now,” Mae said softly, “you can answer my questions, Marina. You promised.”
The water kept rising.
The house kept filling.
And Elle realized Henry’s warning hadn’t been a story.
It had been a countdown.
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