And I’m not letting them take me any farther.Not without a fight.
I squeeze my eyes shut, I squeeze the toilet paper holder tighter, and I pull with all my might.
The knob rattles.
Then I hear the unmistakable scrape of a key fitting into the lock.
Dammit.
Not enough time.
Not enough distance between me and the nightmare waiting outside.
My heart beats so loud I can barely hear the click of the bolt turning—then everything changes.
The toilet paper holder comes off the wall and I turn holding it out like a sword.
But then?
Thuds.Shouts.
A grunt.A crash.
The sound of a body hitting the ground.
And—gunfire.
I scream, drop to the floor, and I hold the stupid metal holder wrapped in my sweatshirt in front of my head as the bathroom walls vibrate with every blast.
My ears ring, my pulse a drumbeat in my throat.
It’s chaos—violent, raw, and fast.
Then, just as quickly as it started—it ends.
Silence.
All I hear is my own shaky breathing.And I smell something burning—gunpowder?
Someone bangs on the door, harder this time.I flinch, crawling backward, shaking my head.
“Get away!”I sob.“Get away from me!”
The door bursts open, metal scraping tile, and I lash out—hands flailing, waving around my pitiful weapon, tears blurring everything.
Then I hear it.
“Easy, easy,” the voice says—low, rough, familiar.“I got you, Lil Bit.I got you.”
My breath catches.
I look up—and there he is.
Sawyer.
He’s covered in dust and sweat and specks of blood, his chest heaving, eyes dark and wild with the kind of fury that could burn the world down.
But when he looks at me—just me—everything softens.
