But how did he even get here? The guy was supposed to be in prison, for God’s sake!
He was wearing an orange jumpsuit. That meant he’d escaped, right?
She raced to the first bedroom off the hall, checked the window, then pulled the curtains across. Then the next. She’d just reached her office when the sight of a tall man in a jumpsuit on the other side of the glass made her screech and fall back. He had dark hair and a scar on the left side of his face.
She opened her mouth to scream just as he lifted a gun and fired.
She covered her head and dropped to the floor, glass shattering around her.
A ringing sounded in her ears.
Get up, Bonnie. You need to get up.
She forced herself to move. To crawl out of the office and into the hall before stumbling to her feet. But she didn’t run up the stairs. She couldn’t lead him to the women. But she also couldn’t leave the house and desert them.
She sprinted to the kitchen and dove behind the island. She didn’t have a weapon. But all the knives were in drawers, and he’d have heard her rummaging around for them.
Her heart hammered in her throat. It was also a terrible hiding spot. But hiding long term wasn’t her goal. If she heard him head upstairs, she’d have to follow. Or make noise to lure him back. She had to protect Sarah and Chett and everyone else, at all costs.
She closed her eyes, listening for footsteps. And they came. They were loud and heavy, hitting the floorboards in the living room hard.
He was coming. He’d followed her.
Fear wrapped its fingers around her chest, squeezing, making it hard to breathe. But she had to be strong, at least until Jesse arrived.
The footsteps grew closer. Quieter now, but in the silent room, they were still loud. She shifted, only slightly so that she was on her butt and ready to kick.
She saw his foot first and immediately shot her foot into his shin.
He fired, and she cried out as the bullet grazed her right arm. She kicked him again, this time in the knee, sending him to the tiled floor. His head hit the counter on his way down, and the gun flew from his fingers.
She lunged for it, but the man dove on top of her, his body heavy, pressing her to the floor as he reached over her head for the weapon.
Zane sprinted down the street,pushing his body to move as fast as it could, when the shelter finally came into view.
He didn’t have a weapon. He didn’t have the time to stop and get one from The Pit. Those few minutes could cost Bonnie her life.
He didn’t need one. He was a former fucking Army Ranger. A former UFC fighter. He’d brought down a hundred men with just his hands, and anyone who touched a hair on Bonnie’s head was as good as dead.
When he reached the house, the gate was already open but the curtains were drawn, so he couldn’t see inside. He remained low, scanning the grounds.
No one was there.
He tried the front door handle. Locked.
Was that good or bad? Did it mean she was safe inside?
No. The gate shouldn’t be open.
He jogged around the house and tried the back door. Again, it was locked.
Slowly, he crept around the house, checking every window. They were all locked, curtains closed. Until he reached the last one.
His stomach twisted. Glass. It was shattered from the outside.
He leapt inside, glass crunching beneath his feet. As he passed the desk, he grabbed a letter opener. It was sharp and the closest thing he had to a weapon.
He moved slowly down the hall, scanning every room he passed. He was almost done with the hall when a gunshot shattered the quiet.
