"I don't care about the CCTV!" Jason’s voice roared from the living room. It wasn't the "New Jason" voice. It was the sound of a predator who had realized his prey had slipped the leash. "My wife is injured and mentally unstable! I want a silver alert or whatever the hell you call it! Search the perimeter!"
I froze, my hand still on the doorframe. Jason was standing in the center of the living room, his face a mask of purple-veined fury, holding a phone to his ear. Two uniformed police officers stood near the balcony, looking uncomfortable, while a third was speaking into a radio near the kitchen.
Jason turned, his eyes locking onto mine. For a split second, I saw pure, unadulterated murderous rage—the look of a man who wanted to break my other arm for daring to leave. But the moment he
