All of a sudden, the room erupted into gunfire.
Bullets flew everywhere.
The window behind them shattered and shards of glass came raining down on them.
They both flung themselves onto the ground.
Hope was screaming.
Summer was in too much shock to make a sound. She just pressed herself to the floor and wondered if she’d been shot and hadn’t even realized it yet.
Abruptly the room fell quiet.
The silence seemed deafening.
Neither of them moved.
She didn’t know if whoever was shooting at the house was now coming inside to get them.
She should do something.
Try to find a weapon so she at least stood a chance of defending herself.
But she couldn’t seem to control her body.
It wouldn’t move.
Maybe she really had been shot.
Her front door was thrown open.
Footsteps sounded.
Summer panicked.
She didn’t know who was coming, she didn’t know if she was hurt, she didn’t know if Hope was dead or alive.
A gasp drew her attention.
Someone was here, but was it the man who had been shooting at them?
“Summer.”
She relaxed a little.
It was Luke.
“Summer?” This time he sounded less shocked and more panicked. “Summer! Answer me.”
He dropped down at her side and rolled her onto her back.
She wanted to tell him she was all right, but she wasn't really sure if she was.
His hands ran up and down her body searching for injuries, then he picked up her wrist, she assumed to check her pulse.
She could see his worried face so her eyes must be open.
He took her face between his hands, his fingers brushing across her cheekbones, and angled it toward him. “Summer, it’s Luke,” he spoke slowly, carefully enunciating each word, she guessed because he was worried that she might be having trouble comprehending what he was saying. “Can you hear me?”