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Bladder relieved, I washed my hands and was halfway back to the bedroom when there was sharp, repeated knocking at the front door. Confused, I snatched my house coat from the landing and padded down the stairs with a yawn. Unsure of the exact time, there was hope in my step that it was Toby finally arriving and we would get to talk about what had happened.
Unlatching the door, I opened it with a yawn and then froze to the spot when I came face to face with Shane.
“About fuckin’ time,” he slurred.
33
SCARLETT
“Shane?”
Instantly, the cozy feelings left by my men faded. My heart seized painfully in my chest, and I clutched the hem of my housecoat tighter. With only thin pajamas underneath, the cold was biting but not as sharp as Shane’s presence. The stink of alcohol rolled off him in choking waves and while I tightened my grip on the door, his full weight was against it making it difficult for me to keep it ajar.
“What the hell are you doing here?”
“You,” Shane snarled. “You fuckin— you think you can just run away and it’s going to be over? You think you can run from me an’ I won’t come and find you? We’re not over until I say we’re over and you owe me.”
“Shane, I?—.”
“No! No more fucking talking. I don’t need a whore to tell me what to do, you understand?”
In a fit of panic, I suddenly shoved myself against the door in a desperate attempt to close it.
If I could just get the latch on, then I could run for a phone or something. Unfortunately, Shane was bulkier and stronger, and the door didn’t move. Instead, a ragged laugh erupted from him, and he shoved hard at the door. It gave way in an instant and I backward, tripping over the worn rug in the hall. I hit the wall with a grunt and the door flew open, bouncing loudly against the wall.
Shane shot out a hand to stop it closing on him and lifted one hand.
Silhouetted in the door, Shane advanced into the house, and I opened my mouth to scream. If I could make a noise and alert the others in the house, then this would be over quickly. Only, no sound came from my lips. Nothing but a noiseless gasp as Shane lifted one hand and a handgun glinted in his hand, reflecting some of the moonlight outside.
He had a gun?!
“Shane—.” I tried to speak but fear consumed me. He was insane.
More than that, he was drunk which made him even more unstable. We’d fought before. In the past, drunken arguments were common, and I had been good at appeasing him but this was different. This wasn’t a lover's tiff.
“Shut up,” Shane barked, and he raised the weapon, brandishing it in my direction. “I don’t need you to talk. You’re a fucking pig, you know that? I gave myself to you. I loved you and all I wanted was some fucking compassion.”
“You’re right,” I gasped, backing slowly against the wall. “You’re right, I’m sorry.”
“Shut up!” Shane yelled and threw himself forward. A scream of terror escaped me, but it was cut off halfway through as his hand sealed around my throat. Fear trickled through me, causing every limb to shake uncontrollably. Iron swelled over the back of my tongue and my breath escaped in short, sharp gasps.
“I did some reading and I realized I don’t even need you now, you know? All I need is to take a picture and then that rich brother of yours, that new one?” He leaned close, smothering me with his Whiskey breath. “How much would he pay for you huh?”
“You’re insane,” I whispered, tears flooding my eyes.
“You break my heart, fuck some other guys and abandon me but I’m insane?” Shane snorted. “Would your brother pay for you, piece by piece, huh?”
“Scarlett?” Sebastian’s sleep-addled voice drifted down the stairs. Shane lurched backward, his face twisted in fury, and aimed the gun up the stairs as the top step creaked.
“Sebastian!” I screamed. “Don’t?—!”
The ear-shattering bang of the gun blasted through the hallway, and I threw my hands over my ears. A split second later, the heavy thump of a body hit the stairs and I watched in horror as Sebastian’s limp body crashed down the steps and landed in a heap at Shane’s feat.
“Sebastian!” I screamed, daring forward but Shane’s gun was on me in an instant and I froze, tears pouring down my cheeks.
“Don’t fucking move,” he snapped. His brow pinched together, and a beat of alarm passed over his face, almost as if he couldn’t believe his own actions. “You had your fucking toy boy here?”
“No no,” I whispered, repeating it like a mantra and unable to look away from Sebastian’s body. Blood began to seep into the carpet, spreading across the wood and reaching the threadbare run. He didn’t move and in the dark, I couldn’t even tell if he was breathing.
