Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 82524 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 413(@200wpm)___ 330(@250wpm)___ 275(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82524 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 413(@200wpm)___ 330(@250wpm)___ 275(@300wpm)
“Mommy, I don’t want to.”
“Go now.” There’s shouting down the hall. More shooting, more screaming. “Hattie, go!”
With tears streaming over her face, she wriggles into the pile of clothes. I cover her more, whispering as much encouragement as I can as the yelling and stomping gets closer. The shooting is more distant now; there’s fighting further away on the property, but it’s not here anymore.
Gone. She’s gone. I can’t see her and I have to stop fussing. The men are in the room now, I can hear them. I back away, heart racing, and press myself to the wall trying to sink into the clothes.
Go away. Go away. Go away!
The doorknob turns and the door slowly opens.
The man that enters isn’t much older than the guard I watched die, the nice one. This man’s holding a rifle, his clothes splattered with gore, sweat sheening his pale skin. He looks around, expression grim, and I’m so afraid Hattie’s going to do something to give herself away.
The clothes shift. There’s motion.
Shit.
I fall from my hiding place and drop to my knees. “You found me!” I yell, drawing his attention on to me. “Okay, you got me!”
His gun instantly points at my head. I think I’m going to die. That’s my end, right there, a steaming barrel held by a child. What the fuck is going on? Except he doesn’t pull the trigger. His eyes narrow, gaze hard.
“Are you June Corvino?”
“Yes! I’m Rafe’s wife!”
The barrel shoves against my head. “Where’s the girl?”
“With her nanny,” I say quickly, the lie coming easily. “She’s not here.”
“Don’t fuck with me.” He jabs the gun at me harder. “Where the fuck is she?”
Please don’t find her. Please don’t find her—
“I told you, she’s not here!”
“Lying bitch.” The young man kicks me hard in the ribs. I grunt, falling sideways. Too close to the pile. It moves and I see Hattie’s terrified face gazing at me.
Stay where you are! Don’t move!
“Tell me where the girl is.” The young man kicks me again, harder this time. I gasp in pain and grit my teeth, tears streaming, trying to hold it in so I don’t scare Hattie, but it hurts so much. “Tell me, you fucking bitch, or I will stomp that pretty face of yours until it’s ruined. Start talking right—“
“Mommy, no!”
Hattie bursts from the clothes. I scream as she clings to me, sobbing now, damn it, damn it, why didn’t she stay hidden? I don’t matter, I’m not important, but she couldn’t do it. The young man grunts and grabs the back of Hattie’s shirt, trying to haul her away, but Hattie cries out and holds on tighter, wriggling from his grip.
“Come with me, you little fucking—“
The young man grunts as a fist cracks into his skull. Rafe slides into the room, dipping down to grab his gun barrel, wrenching it up. He uses the weapon to bash against the young man’s face, knocking him back and senseless. I curl around Hattie, protecting her from what Rafe is about to do—
But there’s no gunshot.
“Are you okay?” Rafe kneels beside me. The young man is still alive, but clearly not conscious, blood pouring from a wound in his head. “Is Hattie okay?”
“We’re okay.” Relief hits me so hard my crying doubles. “She’s fine.”
Rafe wraps his arms around both of us and hugs tight. His touch is shockingly calming. I feel safe with him around in a way I never thought I would. But slowly, he peels Hattie away, even though I clutch at her.
“Nunzio is going to take Hattie to a saferoom purely as a precaution.” The captain of the guard is standing in our room, armed to the teeth, bloodied from cuts on his face. “She’ll be fine, I promise.”
“What? No, I don’t want to be apart from her.”
“Mommy!” Hattie whines and reaches for me, but Rafe is unrelenting.
“You will go as well.” Rafe nods for us to leave as he stands over the unconscious young soldier and kicks him lightly in the face.
Nunzio starts to take Hattie into the other room. I try to follow but stop when the young man moans, bends sideways, and pukes on the rug, regaining consciousness in a sudden burst.
I stare in horror as Rafe looms over him, a knife clutched in my husband’s right fist.
“Under better circumstances, this would be more clinical,” he says, taking a knee beside him. “However, the situation is what it is, and I need you to talk.” He stabs the knife into the young soldier’s thigh.
The soldier gasps, moaning and whimpering in pain. Rafe yanks it back out. Blood pours from the wound.
“Please, don’t do this.” The young man looks around frantically and his gaze lands on me. “Help me, please, you don’t know what he does… what he does to people…”
Rafe’s fist slams into his face. The young man’s head jerks back. “Don’t talk to my wife. Do you understand me?”