Page 135 of Reckless

“The… the back door.” Another tear slips free as I clutch the knife tighter. “They’re trying the handle.”

“Fuck!” The word is barely more than breath before he buries it. “Are they inside?”

“N-no.”

“Can they see you?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Good.” I hear a motorcycle engine roar to life beneath his next words. “Listen to me.” The engine revs hard. “I’m already on my way.”

My knees threaten to give out beneath me. “I-I don’t k-know who it i-is, and there’s no sign of Liam.”

“It’s okay.” His answer comes without hesitation. “I’ve got you.”

“I’m scared.”

“I know, baby.” The tenderness in his voice almost breaks me. “I know.”

Another scrape echoes through the apartment. I clap a hand over my mouth to stop the sob trying to escape. “Ghost…”

“I’m here.” His voice never wavers. “Stay with me.”

“I can hear them.”

“Try to be quiet.”

“They’re still there.”

“I know.”

“I-I…” My voice cracks into another whisper. “I don’t know what to do.”

“You keep that phone off speaker and stay quiet.” The command is immediate. “You stay exactly where you are. I’m six minutes out.”

I squeeze my eyes shut. “Hurry.”

“I’m coming.”

Downstairs, something breaks. Glass, maybe, or a lamp knocked from a table, and the sound of it sends me lower into the closet, folding myself between the hanging clothes and the wall like I can make myself small enough to disappear entirely. I’m shaking. I can hear it in my own breathing, and Ghost can hear it, too, because he swears low under his breath on the other end of the line, a sound I have never heard from him before.

“Piper,” I whisper. “If she comes home right now, if she walks in on this—”

“She won’t. Koa’s got her covered. I texted him the second you called.” He pauses. “Sage. Stay where you are.”

“I could go down and see if—”

“Do. Not. Move!” The command cuts straight through the panic clawing at my chest.

Something in Ghost’s voice changes, every trace of warmth stripped away until all that’s left is absolute certainty. “I mean it, Sage. Stay exactly where you are.”

Another crash explodes somewhere downstairs. Glass—the unmistakable shatter of something hitting the kitchen tiles.

I jump so hard my shoulder slams into the back wall of the closet. “Oh God!”

“Sage.” His voice sharpens instantly. “Quiet.”

I clamp a hand over my mouth. Another crash. This one closer. Wood scraping across the floor. A cupboard door thrown open hard enough that it rebounds off the wall. Whoever is downstairs has stopped trying to be careful.