Just a sort of an unnatural silence that felt wrong.
“Mom?” Her voice was a little bit worried now. Her head tilted as Sloane glanced back up the stairwell. Maybe her mom and stepdad had overslept? She should go check. Her punctual stepdad would hate being late. In a flash, Sloane turned and her bare feet bounded back up the stairs.
Their bedroom door was closed, so she knocked lightly on the wood. “Mom?” Sloane jiggled the handle.
No answer.
But…
The door was unlocked, so she turned the knob. Opened the door.
Light drifted through the curtains, and she could just make out the two figures in the bed. The covers were pulled up high, tucked almost over their heads.
Relief rushed through her. They’d overslept. That was all. Unusual, yes, but…
She rapped again on the door.
Wayne would need to get to work. If he showed up late for court, Sloane was sure that would create all kinds of problems for him.
Neither figure moved in the bed.
Biting her lip, Sloane hesitated. Then she inched forward. “Mom?”
Nothing.
“Mom?” She cleared her throat and advanced a little more. “I, um…it’s going to be a great day!” Her voice cracked on the word great.
Why were goosebumps rising on her arms?
And why were the figures in the bed so still?
“Mom?” Her hand extended toward the bed. She grabbed the soft blue bedding and tugged it back. “Mom, it’s going to be a great?—”
Blood.
So much blood. Everywhere.
She screamed. And then someone grabbed her from behind. Hard arms locked around her body, and Sloane was trapped.
Trapped.
The one word blasted through her even as her eyes shot open. But they opened to darkness, and her legs were weighed down. Her chest weighed down. She twisted and turned but could not get out. Her breath heaved in and out, and she screamed.
The bedroom door flew open. It banged against the wall. Sloane’s head whipped to the right at the sound, and her gaze automatically locked on the figure in the doorway. Light surged in behind him, spilling around his big, looming body.
Past and present blurred.
“Sloane.” He rushed toward her.
She tried to flee but the damn sheets and the comforter were curled around her. She could not get free. He was going to reach her.
“Sloane.” He shoved the covers out of the way. Tore some. She heard the fabric ripping. “Sloane, I’ve got you.” He hauled her out of the bed and into his arms.
His scent hit her. Crisp. A hint of sandalwood.
His strength surrounded her.
“You’re safe.”
