Andy forced herself up onto her hands and knees. She crawled toward the door, her palms digging into broken glass, her knees sliding across the floor. She made it as far as the hallway before the searing pain made her stop. She fell over onto her hip. She pushed herself up to sitting. Pressed her back to the wall. Her skull was filled with a high-pitched whining noise. Shards of glass porcupined from her bare arms.
Andy listened.
She heard a strange sound from the other side of the house.
Click-click-click-click.
The cylinder spinning in the revolver?
She looked at the burner phone. The screen had been shattered.
There was nowhere to go. Nothing to do but wait.
Andy reached down to her side. Her shirt was soaked with blood. Her fingers found a tiny hole in the material.
Then the tip of her finger found another hole in her skin.
She had been shot.