A shadow lunged. A flash of steel?—
A blade sliced into my leg, crimson spilling down my thigh.
Brutish men swarmed the house, their weapons gleaming in the firelight. One by one, they struck down my children.
Steel met flesh.
Tiny bodies crumpled.
Screams filled the air.
My husband roared, surging forward, his sword cleaving through the attackers with wild, furious slashes.
But it wasn’t enough.
The fire swallowed my children, flames licking at their fragile forms.
The acrid stench of burning flesh flooded my nostrils.
I reached toward them, my fingers grasping—but they slipped through my hands.
“I have to get to them,” I whispered. “I have to save them.”
Ahead, a man raised a dagger high in a two-handed grip?—
And drove it into my husband’s chest.
His eyes widened in shock. Blood bubbled from his lips.
He crumpled to the ground, lifeless.
Then—footsteps.
The killer turned, racing toward the back bedroom.
The baby.
“The baby!” I screamed. “He’s going to kill the baby!”
I lunged toward the scorched remnants of the front porch stairs?—
A blade plunged into my stomach.
Pain erupted through me. My legs buckled. I collapsed onto the earth.
I was dying.
And my entire family was dead.
Then, Malik.
He materialized before me, his face twisted in anguish.
“Don’t die,” he pleaded. “I’m sorry for leaving you. I never should have left. I let my emotions get in the way, and now you’re dying.”
Tears filled his eyes.
I gripped his wrist, my strength fading.
