“This is pretty.”
Lacey’s eyes flash open. The mugger fingers the gold locket, his chapped lips pulling up into a cruel grin.
Her hand automatically flies to her throat, covering it protectively. The necklace she treasures with her life. “No.”
And then her mother’s voice in her ears, whispering to her: How do you swim a wave if you’re drowning, Lacey? You break through it. You break it.
A fire lights in Lacey. Her body, her brain remembering how to move. How to fight. How to swim against an asshole tide. Because she’s not dying here. Not tonight, not like this. She has too many things she still needs to do. Go shopping in Paris. Skinny-dip in the Pacific. Most importantly, hugging Sal, spoiling her new niece or nephew like crazy.
Lacey slams herself back against the brick wall, yelping as every muscle, every bone in her body is harshly jolted. Her right heel snaps. The backs of her elbows shredded.
With a growl, the mugger yanks the necklace from her neck. Lacey cries out in anger. She scratches, kicks, bucks her body, draws blood, puts up a fight no man would tangle with.
For a second, she thinks it’s worked.
The mugger backs away, levels her with a look, and then his arm juts out.
It feels like a punch. But it’s not. It’s the slash of a knife. The hard suck into her stomach and then back out again.
Lacey sways, fawn-like, and then glances down to see blood. Warm and wet, it spills over her palms as she presses them against her tender stomach.
“Oh,” she whispers, and her mouth is as dry as cotton.
The world around her goes blurry. There’s the rustle of the mugger, the hiss of bitch and then she’s tipping over onto cold cement.
She tries to scream out, but the words won’t come.
She needs help. Someone. Anyone.
Seth.
She groans at the horrifying thought.
And then Lacey lets go. Lets her body go limp, her eyes rolling back as sweet, unconscious oblivion takes over.