I back up, keeping space between us. "I'm not going anywhere with you!"
A flash of movement at the window again. The door opens.
Carlin turns.
It's my only chance to stop him. I have to stop him.
So I lunge.
The knife sinks into his lower back, easier than I expect. So much worse than I imagined. It's like running into a wall, but the wall gives where the knife sinks into his flesh. The knife handle is wet, the vibration of the impact shuddering through the bones of my hands and wrist and arm. I can't let go. He pulls me forward with him when he staggers, and I pull away on instinct, the knife still locked in my fist, covered in his blood.
Carlin whips around, enraged. There's a flash of betrayal, pain. And then there's only rage.
He comes at me, rage on his face, hands outstretched, reaching for me.
His anger slackens to surprise. And then he's moving. But not toward me. Backward. Away.
Grey.
Grey is behind him, fury incarnate. He flings Carlin against the counter like a rag doll. Carlin barely registers what's happening before Grey has him again, slamming him to the ground. One punch--hard, precise, right where his jaw meets his skull.
Carlin goes limp.
My hands are shaking so hard, covered in blood, but I can't let go of the knife. I can't let it go. Blood drips from my hand and to the floor.
Grey's face snaps in my direction, and then he's on his feet, and then I'm in his arms.
Then I'm safe.
CHAPTER 57
THE BEST WE CAN
GREY
Ican't let go of her.
She's shaking violently in my lap, the knife on the floor next to me, pried from her hand. My arms are locked around her like I can keep her together. Like if I let go even an inch, she'll shatter. Every tremble shakes my bones.
"I've got you," I keep saying, my voice rough, raw. "You're safe. I've got you." I don't know if I'm talking to her or myself.
Her hands are fisted in my shirt, her face buried in my neck. She's not crying, not yet. Just shaking. Breathing too fast, too shallow.
The kitchen is destroyed, the table skewed, chairs overturned. One is busted. There's blood on the floor in more than one place. Carlin is unconscious a few feet away. There's a stranger, bleeding, leaning against the cabinets, watching us.
Wait--
The man from the game. The one lurking around. Why is he here? He's looking at her with worry, concern.
I don't know what the fuck is going on.
I should call 911. Secure Carlin. Get Molly to the hospital, check on the stranger. Find out what happened. But I can't move. I can't let go. I just have to hold her. Like if I let her goI'llshatter. Like if I move, she'll disappear.
"I've got you," I mutter, rocking her.
She starts to cry, shifts to look up at me.
And that's all I can take.
