His heartbeat doesn’t thud beneath my fingers, doesn’t spike—it remains the same. Alive but completely unaffected by the near-death experience.
That rush of life from earlier buzzes to the surface again, hooking against my bones and leaving me breathless.
I slowly open my eyes to find him watching me in that intense way that knots my insides.
“Your turn.” He hands me the gun.
I want to scream.
I want to hit him with it upside the head.
But instead of doing that, I grab it with unsteady fingers and then throw it with all my might at the window.
The shattering of glass nearly deafens me. Soon after, the gun falls to the wood porch outside with a thud.
My chest rises and falls so heavily, I can’t contain it, or the tears that are still staining my cheeks or the way I look at Jeremy.
It’s new, slightly spooked, slightly apprehensive, but it couldn’t be any more true. Real. Powerful.
He’s a force to be reckoned with and I’m right in his path. I finally accept that, even if I’ll never accept the reason why he’s so obsessed with me.
Or more like, I don’t understand it.
He offers no explanation or excuses so that I can see his point of view.
As he stares in the direction of the shattered window, I slip out of his hold, all but jumping back like a scared kitten.
I overestimate my ability to remain standing. My legs are like Jell-O from all the adrenaline and I have to grip the table for balance.
Jeremy pushes up to a standing position, and a ripple of fear rushes through me and locks my limbs. No matter how courageous I try to be, this man is still the most intimidating force of nature I’ve ever encountered.
Especially when his features are closed off and he’s risen to his full height.
“Are you going to run, Cecily?”
I bob my head up and down.
A sadistic gleam illuminates his usually dark eyes. “You sure about that? I won’t take it easy on you.”
“When have you ever?”
“True that.” He steps toward me and I take several back as his voice lowers, deepens, and crowds with tension. “I won’t give you a head start.”
Not thinking about the consequences of my choice, I run. All I know is that this option is better than a game of death.
The adrenaline from earlier rushes through my limbs and I climb the stairs that lead to the first floor. At first, I don’t hear him, and I think maybe I’m faster due to the superhuman energy that I gained tonight.
But then a thud of steps follows after me and I shriek when I feel his overwhelming presence behind me. I grab a fake plant and throw it at him.
But he dodges it and the pot crashes to the floor.
Blimey!
If I stay in the house, I’m going to get myself trapped. In a snap decision, I slip from between the stairs’ wide railings and jump.
My legs take a hit, but it barely hurts under the circumstances. I roll down on the ground, then leap to my feet and sprint without looking back.
I pause at the threshold of the kitchen door, casting a glance at where I threw the gun.