“Wildcat?” His sleepy voice comes across the line after the second ring, and my chest tightens at the nickname. It doesn’t matter how many times I hear it, it never gets old.
“There’s someone in the house,” I whisper, my voice so low I hope he can hear it.
“I’ll be there in a few. Stay on the phone with me.”
I nod but don’t respond, knowing my time before the intruder steps into the bedroom is limited.
I’m hyperaware of every sound around me, my chest so tight I can barely breathe.
It’s not until I taste salt that I realize I’m crying, and no matter how hard I try to swallow the sob crawling up my throat, it breaks free of its own accord.
Colten’s end of the line is quiet, which tells me he’s got me muted as he makes his way here so I don’t panic more, but if anything, the lack of sound other than the footsteps is setting me more on edge.
“Colt, I’m scared,” I murmur so quietly I barely hear the words over my own racing heart.
“I know, Wildcat. Hold on for me, okay? I won’t let anything happen to you.”
I swallow down another sob as a pair of black boots steps into the doorway.
They stand there for a few seconds, and each one feels longer than the last as I wait for them to make their choice.
I assume it’s a man based on the size of the boots, but when you’re part of the Mafia, you never know who might try to kill you.
“Oh Wildcat,” they call, their deep timbre making my heart drop. The name sounds so wrong on their lips, nothing like when Colten says it, but at least I can confirm one thing.
This isn’t about being a Mafia princess. It’s about being a cam girl, and somehow that’s worse. The part of my life that’s been just for me could also be the part that gets me killed. Kind of ironic, seeing as I’ve grown up in one of the most dangerous families in the country.
Questions filter through my mind quicker than I can process them.
How did he find me?
Why would he do this?
Who is he?
What if it’s CJP? The sweet subscriber who has been my safe place.
Oh god.
He steps closer to the edge of the bed, and I press my palm over my mouth, forcing myself to remain quiet even as terror vibrates through every muscle.
The boots stop just a few inches from my face, and I press my eyes closed, forcing myself to the safe place Cruz insisted I find if I were ever in this very situation.
Well, maybe not this exact scenario, but one when I’m in danger and need to decompartmentalize in order to stay alive.
I curl closer to myself, careful not to make a sound as I think through what my options are.
To be honest, I don’t have many.
Now that he’s so close to me, he’ll hear if I try to get to the other side of the bed, and he’ll get there long before I do considering how little space I have.
I could kick him in the shin, that might slow him down for long enough for me to crawl out of here and make a break for it, but it’s a big might.
Or I stay exactly where I am, exactly where he seems to know I am, and hope that Colten gets here before he makes his move.
“Are you going to come out, Wildcat? Or are you going to make me drag you out?”
Tears fall down my cheeks, but I’m frozen in place. My self-defense instructor once told me that fight or flight weren’t the only two responses to danger, but I hoped I would never be in a position to freeze the way I am.
