The latch isn’t pulled closed. The door is not locked. He isn’t this careless. His guest hadn’t been planned. It was reactionary.
Within the same handful of seconds of realizing this, a loud thump echoes off the wall, and the crunch of bone rings out as two bodies hit the floor. The monster and his newest, quite large and very much still alive, guest. Grunts and yells steal my attention back to what’s happening just feet away from where I sit. My hands shake as I glance at the sliver of light again, and then back to the chaos of both men wrestling for purchase onthe floor. But it’s the gruff voice that cuts through the chaos and knocks the smarts back into me.
“Go!” he yells as he pins the monster.
I stand, my legs barely holding me upright, heart pounding so fast it makes me dizzy.
There’s another grunt and the sound of flesh being ripped.
My mind made up, I shuffle forward, bend over, and grip the latch.Be brave.Pulling up the door, bright white light blinds me. I squeeze my eyes shut just as a deep voice bellows, “Go! Wyn. Runnnnn!”
Chapter One
Wyn
Present
Technically,I’m not dead. But it fucking feels like I’m on its doorstep when my heart stops for what feels like a power ballad after being startled awake by a rapid succession of closed-fist knocks. I suck in a breath, sitting up. My left arm is asleep from the awkward angle it’s been draped on the toilet paper holder. My cheek is sore, nearly numb from the cold marble sink it was resting on.
“Are you alright in there?” a woman’s voice calls out, followed by another hurried knock on the other side of the door. I stand too quickly, shifting in front of the mirror, rendering me lightheaded as the haziness blacks out the edges of my vision. Isqueeze my eyes closed and take a slow breath. When I exhale, I lean against the sink, elbows locked straight as I stare at my reflection.
“Fucking brilliant,” I whisper sarcastically, confirming that I look as great as I feel. Smudged mascara, nothing left of my long-lasting lip stain except a line edging my lips that somehow makes me look paler than I should for late August, and a nice little same-day hangover headache lingering just behind my right eye socket. I turn my head and spot a crease along my cheek. I rub my fingers along the indentation, trying to erase the evidence of my mid-party power nap.
“All good,” I sing song, like it’s totally normal for a woman in her mid-thirties to get tipsy and then sleep it off in the bathroom. “I’ll be right out.”
What time is it?I turn over my phone to check—Fuck me. Blinking hard, I focus on the blurry glow of 1:26 a.m. Below it, there’s a wall of texts from my sisters in response to the rescue request I sent nearly two hours ago.
WYN
I need a ride.
STEVIE
I got pulled into covering at the bar tonight.
Jo, will you go pick her up?
JO
I am literally next to you watching you text this and there’s a crowd stacked 4 rows deep of drunks and cranky bikers. Neither of us is going anywhere any time soon.
STEVIE
Text mom.
JO
Again, do you need your eyes checked? She’s on the shot swing.
I wasn’t going to text my mother anyway. The last thing she said to me was that “I’m always so predictable.” I told her she was a narcissist, to which she replied, “At least I’m not boring.” I swallow the guilt of hating her again.
STEVIE
Sorry Wynnie. Go a little wild, call a rideshare.
JO
Come to the bar before you go home.
