The window slid up slowly, inch by agonizing inch, cold air flooding in like the dread snowballing through my body.
A shadow appeared in the doorway.
I pushed the window all the way up, but just before I could pop the screen out, a figure lunged.
I spun, swinging the bat. The crack of wood against mass reverberated through my arms, but it wasn’t enough.
He was on me. Massive hands yanked the bat away and sent itclattering across the floor. His weight crushed me to the ground, pinning my arms, while his broad shoulders blocked out the light.
“Get off me!” I screamed.
His hand clamped over my mouth, fingers digging into my jaw. The taste of salt and dirt invaded my senses.
A blade appeared, glinting in the fading sunlight. My eyes locked on to it, watching it descend toward my throat.
“You’re going to die the same way you killed my son.”
Judge Kearns.The realization slammed into me.
Terror crystallized into a single, impossible thought:After everything I’d overcome, this was how it ended?
I squirmed and kicked, but couldn’t free myself from this monster. The knife pressed against my jugular. Cold metal bit into my skin, a razor’s edge away from ending everything. I stared into the eyes of my killer, watching the hatred burn there. Feeling the sharp sting as the blade punctured skin.
A bead of warmth trickled down my neck.
This was it.
Suddenly, his head jerked. Something warm and wet splattered across my face, and his grip loosened, his hand slipping off my mouth.
Then he jerked backward like a rag doll.
That’s when I realized another person was now in the room.
Ryker.
Holding my fallen baseball bat.
The judge was still conscious, blood streaming down his face.
“Tomorrow, everyone will know what you’ve done and what you really are,” Ryker said. “How you used your position, your connections, and your power to cover up every bad act your son committed. And in the process, you created and protected a monster that tried to take what wasn’t his.”
“I have the whole police department on my side.” He spat blood. “This will get buried.”
Ryker’s face went pale. “Your son’s death was self-defense. He stalked Faith for years. He tried to kill her.”
Judge Kearns’s voice cracked. “She killed my boy. My only child.”
“He hunted her like an animal. Terrorized her. Tried to?—”
“I don’t care!” The judge’s composure shattered. “I don’t care what the evidence says. I don’t care what some jury decides. The courts might call it self-defense. The law might exonerate her. But I’m his father.” His eyes were wild, unfocused. Grief twisted into something darker. “No verdict will ever give me my son back. No jury will ever make this right.”
Ice slid down my spine. This wasn’t reason. This was a man who’d already decided the outcome.
“So, what?” Ryker kept his voice level, even as his hand moved protectively toward me. “You’ll what? Become exactly what your son was?”
“My son was good.” The words were desperate, pleading. Like if he said them enough times, they’d become true. “He was troubled, yes. He made mistakes. But he was trying to get better. He was seeing someone, getting help?—”
“He left dead animals in her locker. Showed up at a house full of traumatized kids and?—”
