“What’s your address, ma’am?” Her calm tone does nothing to soothe my fright.
I whisper past my dry throat. “17 Sunrise Avenue.”
Heavy footfalls bang dangerously close to the staircase. I glance at the windows and contemplate my odds if I leap from the second story. My luck, I’ll break my body just enough to make me wish I were dead—which might be better than the fate that’s waiting for me at the hands of the intruders lurking in my living room.
“Ma’am,” the operator says. “I need you to tell me your name.”
I swallow the lump glued to the back of my throat when hushed male voices drift from below. “Faith. Faith Decker.”
“Good. Okay. Faith, the police are already on their way. Are you somewhere safe?”
I shake my head, my sleep-messy hair sticking to my sweaty face. “No. I’m in my bedroom.”
“Is the door closed? Does it have a lock?”
“No,” I say on a sob. My stomach heaves as clammy fingers of dread pinch their way through me. “It’s open. No lock.”
“Can you get to a room with a door that locks?”
Again, I shake my head on instinct. “No.” The word is more of a breathy groan of defeat as I stare at the gaping door. At the hallway, where I expect to see the intruder(s) materialize from the shadows.
“Stay calm, Faith. The police will be there soon.”
Not soon enough.
“I’m diabetic,” I say by rote.
I glance at the platinum medical alert bracelet Kerri bought me for my twenty-first birthday.
“Okay, Faith. An ambulance is also on the way.” She pauses for what seems like an eternity but can’t be longer than seconds. “Breathe, Faith. I need you to breathe, and I need you to remain calm.”
Both of those are impossible.
“They’re coming upstairs.” Multiple footsteps pound against the floor. They’re not even trying to be quiet now. They’re talking. Loud. Two of them, I think. Deep voices. Male. One tells the other to search one room for me, confirming this isn’t a random break-in. But why?
Connor.
Because I don’t believe in coincidence.
This is happening the same night I questioned him about onyx. That motherfuc—
“Faith, are you with me?”
“I have to go.” On a snap decision, I hang up with the operator and call Jester. As she said, the cops and paramedics are on the way. To remain on the phone with her won’t bring them here any faster. If I only have a few minutes—seconds?—left, I want them spent listening to someone else’s voice.
“Pick up, pick up. Please, pick up,” I whisper-chant as the phone rings once.
Twice…
Jester answers on that second ring. “I knew you’d call.”
“Oh God, Luke.” That name falls from me, so natural, in a rush as I keep my gaze fixed on the doorway. “Two men are in my house. I’m scared.”
The phone slips from my hand and hits the mattress. If I’m going to die tonight, at least he’ll know what happened to me. Also, I won’t be completely alone when I face whoever comes charging through the door.
And theyarecoming. Those heavy footsteps are louder. Closer. I tighten my grip on the bat and leap off the bed. On solid ground. Wearing nothing but a long T-shirt and panties. I may be vulnerable, but I don’t intend to go down without a fight. One of them singsongs my name, and a shiver skids up my spine. This is a game for them. They know where I am and are trying to scare me. Mission accomplished. I’m terrified. And when they’re directly outside my bedroom, I can’t tell what’s louder. Each erratic breath I take, the furious slam of my heart, or Jester’s screams sounding from the phone. That he’s coming for me. That he’s going to kill whoever is in my house. It all sort of blends together as my blood rushes in my ears. None of the noise matters, though.
It’s over.
