Not for Zane.
Not for happiness.
And certainly not to be a mother, though secretly it’s all I wanted. To show my child the love I never had.
Something moves in the shadow of the hall, so I glance over, expecting to see Garrison coming toward me. That expectation dies quickly, though, and my stomach plummets.
The teacup clatters out of my hand and hits the ground with a thud as the liquid saturates the fluffy rug beneath Garrison’s coffee table. I set my Bible to the side and slowly get to my feet as I stare down the masked intruder coming toward me.
I don’t scream, though. Not yet. Because if I can keep his focus long enough for him to pass the bathroom, then Garrison’s arrival will be a surprise.
You’ve got this, Tessa.
Swallowing hard, I take a step back—and bump into a large frame.
“Garr—” I start to scream, but a large hand comes around to cover my mouth. As my attacker lifts me, I plant both feet on the arm of the couch and shove back, flinging him—and me—into the wall.
The bathroom door opens, and Garrison rushes out wearing only a pair of sweats, his hair still wet from the shower. He races forward and tackles the guy in the hallway, taking him to the ground. A sickening crack fills the apartment, and the first guy falls still on the floor.
My attacker snakes a meaty hand over my mouth, making it nearly impossible to breathe. Lungs burning, I continue to fight against his hold, but it’s no use.
“Keep coming, and I’ll pull the trigger,” the man snarls as cool steel is pressed to my chin.
I swallow hard and fall still. Come on, Garrison.
But he hesitates—and that hesitation is just long enough that a third man I hadn’t seen slips out from Garrison’s slightly open bedroom door.
I try to scream. Try to warn him.
But with tears in my eyes, I watch in absolute horror when the blade of a knife is driven into Garrison’s side. He cries out, then rips himself free of the blade before spinning and landing a kick on his attacker.
Blood pours from the nasty wound in his side, and he stumbles, falling forward onto his knees. I squirm, trying to get to him so I can help. Garrison’s expression looks so defeated, so broken that it crushes me.
No. Please don’t die. God, please!
My attacker laughs from behind me. I slam my foot down onto his boot, but that only makes him laugh harder. “Steel toe, sweetheart,” he mutters into my ear.
Bile burns in my gut, and I fight as hard as I can against his hold, twisting and turning, until something hard slams into the back of my head and I fall forward onto the tea-stained carpet. Vision blurry, I can barely focus on anything. But I can see Garrison.
Still on his knees, a hand pressed to the wound in his side, he tries to crawl to me. The man who stabbed him grips a handful of his hair and exposes his throat.
“No!” I scream. “No!”
He lowers the blade to Garrison’s neck.
“Leave him,” the man behind me says right as my vision begins to fade. “He’ll be dead soon anyway. Just like the rest of them. We need to get going before someone shows up and we have another body to deal with.”
The rest of them.
No, God. Please, no.
My throat burns, and I fight for consciousness. Fingers gripping the carpet, I try to crawl my way toward Garrison as the man who’d stabbed him releases his hair and shoves him to the carpet. If I can get the blood stopped, then maybe he’ll stand a chance.
A hand closes around the back of my neck, and I’m ripped up from the ground and thrown over a shoulder. Regaining some of my strength, I thrash in his hold.
“Let me go! Help! Garrison!”
“Shut her up,” the man who’d stabbed Garrison orders. “Now.”
