The footsteps were too heavy to be hers.
“Oh, please, don’t let Margaret be hurt.”
The door to my old suite banged against the wall from a room away. My hands trembled as my gaze darted around the bathroom. There was nowhere for me to hide.
Can I make it to the bedroom?
No. The footsteps were coming closer.
Shit.
My gaze went to the doorknob. The door wasn’t locked.
I took a step closer and immediately back.
It was too late.
Another step back. My shoulders collided with the wall as I lifted my only means of defense—the blow dryer.
What am I going to do, blow this person away on the top speed?
I held my breath as the bathroom door flung open.
“Fuck, Julia. Why didn’t you answer? Why are you down here?”
I tried to make sense of Van’s reappearance.
“Why are you back already?” I looked at the vanity. “My stuff is in here. I was going to move it after I dressed.”
Van’s arms came around me, pressing my weapon of choice to my stomach and holding me tight. When he loosened his grip, I grinned down at the hair dryer. “You’re lucky I didn’t get you with this.”
He took the dryer from my grasp, placing it on the vanity. “Fuck. You need to call your dad.”
“Okay,” I said tentatively. “Is it an emergency?”
“Yes.” He handed me a phone.
Opening the screen, I saw that my numbers were gone. “Where’s all my information?”
“On your other phone.”
My gaze narrowed. “The one Phillip took?”
“Here.” He swiped his phone, brought up my dad’s number and handed it to me.
My hands resumed their trembling as I grasped the phone. “What’s the emergency?” The breakfast and coffee from earlier churned in my stomach. “Is Dad all right? Is it Mom?”
“No, it’s you. Call him.”
I hit the call icon.
Me?
“Donovan,” my father’s voice answered.
“No, Dad. It’s me. Are you all right?”
“Little girl. Are you safe? Has he hurt you? Your mother and I want you home. Don’t worry. The police are on their way. We can move forward…”