Chapter 4 Who Is the True Prey?

# Chapter 4: Who Is the True Prey?

The burner phone felt heavy in my hand as I stared at the live streaming setup. We'd abandoned our compromised safe house and moved to a motel on the outskirts of town—the kind of place that accepted cash and didn't ask questions. Daniel had spent the morning setting up secure equipment while I prepared for what might be our most dangerous gambit yet.

"Are you sure about this?" Daniel asked, adjusting the camera angle. "Once we go live, there's no turning back."

I nodded, applying a final touch of makeup to hide the dark circles under my eyes. "Nicholas thinks he's regained the upper hand. We need to take control of the narrative again."

The plan was simple but risky: a live broadcast revealing all the evidence we had against Nicholas, including documents we'd legally obtained through my father's estate. It wouldn't be enough to convict him in court, but the court of public opinion could be equally powerful.

"We're ready when you are," Daniel said, stepping behind the camera. "Remember, stick to the script. Nothing that could incriminate us."

I took a deep breath and pressed the button to go live. Within seconds, viewer counts began climbing. The media attention from the wedding explosion had made me a macabre celebrity, and thousands were eager to hear my side of the story.

"My name is Lara Butler," I began, my voice steady. "Six days ago, I was supposed to marry Nicholas Hill. Instead, I exposed his betrayal to the world. Many of you have questions about what happened and why. Today, I'm going to tell you the truth."

I methodically laid out the evidence: financial records showing Nicholas systematically draining my father's accounts; medical records indicating the suspicious pattern of my father's decline; witness statements from hospital staff noting Nicholas's unusual behavior around my father's medical equipment.

"Nicholas Hill didn't marry me for love," I continued. "He married me for my inheritance—an inheritance he planned to collect immediately following our wedding by staging my 'accidental' death."

The viewer count surpassed one hundred thousand. Comments flooded the feed—some supportive, others accusing me of being a jilted, vengeful woman making wild accusations.

"I know some of you don't believe me," I acknowledged. "You think I'm crazy, unstable, dangerous. Nicholas's legal team has been promoting this narrative. But consider this: if I wanted Nicholas dead, would I have used non-lethal pyrotechnics at the wedding? Would I be here now, asking for justice through legal channels?"

I held up a folder of documents. "These are police reports I'm submitting today regarding Nicholas's previous girlfriend, Melissa Lang. Her supposed suicide three years ago was never properly investigated. Her phone's last location was on Nicholas's yacht, though he claimed she jumped from a different location entirely."

Daniel gave me a warning look—we were veering into territory we hadn't discussed.

"The authorities initially dismissed my concerns," I continued. "But with recent developments, they've agreed to reopen Melissa's case."

My phone buzzed with an incoming call—Detective Brennan. I ignored it.

"I'm not asking you to take my word for it," I said to the camera. "I'm asking you to demand a thorough investigation. Too many powerful men get away with—"

Daniel suddenly stepped into frame, pressing a note into my hand. It read: "HOSPITAL CALLED. NICHOLAS ESCAPED."

My blood ran cold, but I maintained my composure on camera. "I need to take a brief break. Please stand by."

Daniel muted the microphone. "Hospital security just found his room empty. The guard was drugged. Nicholas has been gone for at least an hour."

"How? He could barely walk with his injuries."

"He had help." Daniel showed me his tablet, displaying hospital security footage of Jennifer entering Nicholas's room earlier that morning. "She came in through a service entrance, wearing scrubs."

"She helped him escape?" I couldn't hide my disbelief. "After everything he said to her?"

"Maybe she didn't have a choice." Daniel ran a hand through his hair. "We need to move. Now."

"No." I unmuted the microphone. "We finish this first."

I returned to the broadcast, my expression grave. "I've just received word that Nicholas Hill has escaped police custody. This only confirms what I've been saying—he is dangerous and desperate. If you see him, do not approach. Contact authorities immediately."

The viewer count jumped to over three hundred thousand as news of the escape spread.

"Before I end this broadcast, there's one more thing you should know." I pulled out a USB drive. "This contains footage of Nicholas confessing to tampering with my father's medication. I'm releasing it to every major news outlet today."

Daniel's eyes widened in alarm—this wasn't part of our plan. The footage was obtained illegally and could compromise everything.

"Justice will be served," I concluded. "One way or another."

I ended the broadcast and immediately turned to Daniel. "Before you say anything—"

"Do you realize what you've done?" he hissed. "That footage won't hold up in court, and now you've announced its existence on a livestream watched by hundreds of thousands!"

"It doesn't need to hold up in court," I replied calmly. "It just needs to make Nicholas panic."

Understanding dawned on Daniel's face. "You're trying to smoke him out."

"Exactly. Nicholas is injured, desperate, and now publicly exposed. He'll make mistakes."

My phone rang again—Detective Brennan. This time, I answered.

"Ms. Butler, where are you?" Brennan demanded without preamble.

"Somewhere safe," I replied vaguely.

"Nicholas Hill has escaped custody, and we have reason to believe you're his target. You need protection."

"I appreciate your concern, Detective, but I can take care of myself."

"Like you took care of things at your wedding?" His tone was sharp. "Ms. Butler, interfering with a police investigation is a crime. So is withholding evidence, which you just admitted to doing on a public broadcast."

"I'm not withholding evidence. I'm delivering it to your department today."

"And the man claiming to be Daniel Cross? Is he with you now?"

I glanced at Daniel, who shook his head slightly. "I have no comment on that matter."

"Ms. Butler—Lara—I'm trying to help you. Nicholas Hill is dangerous. Jennifer Boyd was found unconscious in a hospital supply closet an hour ago. She claims Nicholas threatened to kill her and her unborn child if she didn't help him escape."

My heart skipped a beat. "Is she alright?"

"She'll recover. But this shows how desperate Nicholas has become." Brennan paused. "We can protect you, but you need to come in. Both of you."

"I'll consider it," I said before hanging up.

Daniel was already packing our equipment. "We need to move. This location isn't secure."

"Jennifer helped him escape, then he attacked her anyway," I said, still processing. "She's pregnant with your child, Daniel."

His movements faltered briefly. "I know. All the more reason to end this quickly."

As we loaded the car, my smartwatch buzzed with a notification. It was from a home security app I'd installed years ago and nearly forgotten—motion detected at my childhood home, a lakeside property I'd inherited after my father's death but rarely visited.

I showed Daniel the alert. On the small screen, we could make out a shadowy figure moving through the darkened living room.

"It could be Nicholas," Daniel said, studying the grainy image. "Or it could be a trap."

"There's only one way to find out." I started the car.

"Lara, wait. Think about this. If Nicholas is there, he's waiting for you. It's too dangerous."

I turned to face him. "My father's murderer is free. He's threatened both of us. I'm done hiding."

"At least let me call for backup," Daniel pleaded. "I have contacts—"

"No. No more complications." I pulled out a gun from the glove compartment—the one Daniel had insisted I keep for protection. "It's time to finish this."

Daniel stared at me for a long moment before nodding. "We do this together."

The drive to the lake house took forty minutes. We parked a quarter-mile away and approached on foot, using the dense woods as cover. The property sat on a secluded peninsula, with the house perched on a bluff overlooking the water. It was early evening, the fading light casting long shadows across the grounds.

"Security system shows one heat signature in the main living room," Daniel whispered, checking his phone. "No movement for the past twenty minutes."

"Could be waiting in ambush," I replied, checking the gun's magazine. "Side entrance through the sunroom?"

Daniel nodded. "I'll go first."

We crept through the garden to the sunroom door. Daniel picked the lock with practiced ease—a skill he'd acquired during his years in private security, though I sometimes wondered what else he'd done in his mysterious past.

The house was eerily silent as we entered, save for the gentle ticking of my father's antique grandfather clock. We moved carefully through the kitchen toward the living room, where the security alert had originated.

Daniel signaled for me to wait as he peered around the corner. His body tensed.

"What is it?" I whispered.

He gestured for me to look.

The living room was empty, but on the coffee table sat my smartwatch, its screen glowing with the security alert I'd received earlier. Next to it lay a single piece of paper.

Daniel checked the rest of the room before we approached. I picked up the note, my hands trembling slightly.

Written in Nicholas's distinctive handwriting was a simple message:

"The game isn't over, Lara. Check your watch."

As if on cue, the watch lit up with a new notification—a live location being shared with me. I gasped when I saw the address.

"Daniel, this is—"

"Your childhood bedroom," he finished, looking equally shocked. "But how could he know—"

The realization hit me like a physical blow. "He couldn't. Not unless..."

Daniel's expression hardened. "Not unless someone told him."

Before we could say more, my phone rang. The caller ID showed Jennifer's number.

"Put it on speaker," Daniel instructed.

I answered cautiously. "Jennifer?"

"Not quite," came Nicholas's voice, smooth despite his injuries. "But she was kind enough to lend me her phone before our... disagreement at the hospital."

"What do you want?" I demanded.

"To finish our game, of course." His tone was almost playful. "You see, I've been thinking about what you said in your little broadcast. About justice being served one way or another."

"Where are you?" Daniel cut in.

"Ah, the dead husband speaks." Nicholas chuckled. "I'm exactly where the location shows. Somewhere meaningful to Lara. Somewhere she never took you, Daniel. Did she tell you why this room was so special?"

I felt the color drain from my face. My childhood bedroom had been converted to my father's home office before his death. It was where he kept his most private papers—including the original will Nicholas had been so desperate to alter.

"If you've hurt anyone else—" I began.

"Hurt? No, not yet. But I've prepared a special surprise. You have thirty minutes to get here before... well, let's just say the next explosion won't be for show."

The line went dead.

Daniel grabbed my arm. "It's a trap. We need to call Brennan."

"There's no time," I argued. "If Nicholas has planted explosives in that house..."

My watch buzzed again with a new message: a countdown timer, starting from thirty minutes.

Daniel's face was grim as he checked his gun. "Let's end this."