He steps closer, his sheer size sucking all the air from the room. I inch back, pressing against the wall, but there’s nowhere to go.
He laughs. A low, dark sound that makes my skin crawl. Then he reaches behind his back. Trouble’s sharp inhale makes my head snap to him. His jaw flexes, his eyes burning into me, but he doesn’t say a word.
The man pulls something out and lifts his arms.
It’s a fucking gun.
Pointed directly at my head.
“You have questions. I have questions,” the man says.
Heat flares across my chest, rushing through my veins like wildfire. My spine presses tighter against the wall, as if I could disappear into it. “Q-questions?” I stammer, barely able to hear my own voice over the pounding of my heart.
"Yeah, questions," he sneers, shifting the weapon as he speaks. "Like, where is my motherfucking money?" His intimidating glare rakes over me from my head to my toes as if he’s?—
Oh my God.
I look down.
I’m not dressed.
I ran down the stairs, went outside, and walked into the bakery wearing nothing but a tank top and my underwear. Cold horror snakes up my spine. I cross my arms over my chest, desperate to cover myself.
But he just laughs.
Then, he presses the gun against the bare skin of my collarbone and shoves my hands away.
Terror roots me to the spot.
He trails the cold muzzle of the gun over my skin, dragging it in a slow, cruel sweep over the swell of my breasts, circling over a nipple, and pushing against the thin fabric. My fists clench at my sides, shame and fury twisting in my gut.
“I don’t know anything about your money,” I grind out, my voice steady despite the fire raging inside me.
Taylor’s high-pitched yelp shatters the moment. Every head snaps toward her as she stumbles into the room, mouth stretched wide. Henry is right behind her, face drained of color. My heart lurches into my throat.
“What’s happening?” she gasps.
“Nothing,” I snap, my nails biting into my palms. “Taylor, go back upstairs.”
The man with the gun chuckles, his smirk twisting into something far more sinister. “Don’t be ridiculous,” he drawls. “Join us, Taylor. And bring your friend too.” His gaze lingers on her, dark and hungry. It sends chills slithering down my spine.
She runs to Vick and links her arm through his, as if he could somehow save her.
The man shifts his attention to my father, gliding the gun lazily between me and Taylor. “These your daughters, Vick?”
My father flinches. His hands tremble at his sides, but he forces a nod. “Yeah, yeah,” he stammers, pointing a shaky finger at me. “That’s Lucky. This is . . . this is her place. Like I said, I’m just visiting.”
My stomach churns. He brought these men here? “Dad, what’s going on?” I demand.
“Your old man here owes me some money.”
Ice seeps into my veins. My father is in debt to a man with a gun, and now he’shere. I see. I breathe out slowly, fighting the quiver in my bottom lip. “Your money isn’t here. There’s nothing in that safe.”
He cocks his head, arching his eyebrows skeptically.
I raise my hands slowly, palms out, and take a cautious step forward. The gun follows me, unwavering. “Whoa,” I say, keeping my voice calm. “I’m just going to open the safe andshowyou.”
Sliding between the four men, I risk a glance athim. Trouble. His glare sheers through me with pure hatred. It carves me hollow inside. I rip my gaze away and focus on the safe. My fingers tremble as I press in the code. I miss a number. Three fast beeps pierce the air. Loud. Jarring.
