I walk to the kitchen and set myself up for a cup of coffee, leaning against the counter with a stupid, dreamy look on my face, while I play with the cigarette burn hole by the strings and breathe in my alpha’s scent like it’s fucking oxygen before I remember what he said.
I’m not particularly hungry, but I should eat.
After a few minutes of digging through the fridge, I settle on leftover pizza, eating it cold right out of the box.
Coffee and pizza isn’t exactly my first choice for a meal but it’ll do for now. I’d prefer not to pass out after the last few days, and this will make him happy because it’s more than the nothing he thinks I usually eat.
Deciding to do him one better, I grab a second piece and begin searching the room for my phone. I have no idea where it went but I think a selfie is in order to commemorate how well I listen to his command, even when it’s written down on paper.
Not to mention we both know it’s not going to last. The second we’re back together, I’ll be my alpha’sfavorite bratonce again.
“There you are, you little bastard,” I say with a grunt as I reach into the recliner, pulling my cellphone from the exposed springs underneath just as it vibrates in rapid succession.
I have no clue how it got there, and I’m not going to even bother figuring it out.
UNKNOWN: Get out.
That’s fucking weird.
I frown at the notification on my screen then quickly swipe to check the rest.
UNKNOWN: Get out.
UNKNOWN: Get out.
UNKNOWN: Get out.
UNKNOWN: Get out.
UNKNOWN: Get out.
UNKNOWN: Get out.
UNKNOWN: NOW
No sooner do I watch the last text come through than I hear breaking glass, seconds before the pizza in my hand explodes inches from my head. I immediately drop to the ground, abandoning my food in favor of searching for my gun.
I only brought one with me, I never leave home completely unarmed but I don’t generally need to be strapped to the teeth when I’m on a goddamn vacation.
Army crawling my way through the tiny living room, I quickly head to the bedroom, windows shattering overhead, pieces of the log cabin walls splintering as they’re pelted with bullets. Shards of both rain down on me, following my direction as I crawl through the cottage, several things running through my mind as I do.
They have some sort of thermal imaging.
If they’re able to follow me so easily, it’s because they can see into my house on some level, otherwise they wouldn’t know which way I went.
There’s more than one shooter.
It’s subtle, and maybe it wouldn’t be caught by someone who hasn’t experienced it before, but nanoseconds after one bullet hits, another does, and it’s clear that it’s two shooters walking along the side of my fucking house next to each other.
That also means I'm most likely surrounded.
I know that’s what I’d do if I was the one planning a full-blown surprise execution.
A few in front to force my target out the back or side, and make sure more of my men were waiting, even going as far as to hide some in the woods in case they got past the initial firing squad.
That’s exactly what I’d do, and I’d put money on that being the case right now.
Which gives me a pretty good idea of who’s after me.
