Page 190 of Trust No One

The gun might still give me a chance.

“Who told you how to find me?” I demanded. “You didn’t make it here alone.”

He shoved me forward. “I did it alone.”

It would’ve taken a lawyer. A cop. Someone with connections to secure his release. “What do you want with me?”

“I been dreaming about you for months. My heart races when I think about my fingers around your neck.”

My panic bucked, but I struggled to control it. Think, Raine.

A lawyer. Connections.

“Ken,” I said.

He grinned. “Who?”

Ken had been at the hospital first. He’d taken care of all the details: doctors, driving me home, feeding me.

The lights in the upstairs hallway snapped off. Darkness swallowed us whole.

Pete’s grip crushed my arm. “What the fuck—”

Shadows slithered over his face. I welcomed them. I knew this house. He didn’t.

He pulled me toward the bedroom door. “I don’t need light for this.”

I stumbled forward, scanning the room’s contents. Books. Crystal vases. Brass candlesticks. Anything I could use.

Then the front door slammed open. Light flared. A silhouette filled the doorway.

Pete’s grip faltered. I tore free, hurrying toward my bedroom into darkness. My foot caught on the carpet as I rushed toward the shadows. I tripped and fell. The bed frame grazed my shoulder.

Feet thundered behind me. Hands clamped my ankles. Yanked me down hard. My fingers clawed at the carpet.

He rolled me on my back, pinning me. Instantly, he was on top of me, his hands crushing my throat. His breath was foul. I gripped his hands.

“Someone’s coming,” I gasped.

His face inches from mine, he whispered, “I’ll snap your neck before they get here.”

I lifted my head a fraction, straining against his grip. The air was trapped in my lungs. I bit his bottom lip, just as he’d done mine. But I was prepared to tear flesh.

He howled, tried to pull back. I clamped down. His fingers slackened.

His weight lifted. His grip tightened as if holding me would save him. A fist from the shadows pounded the side of Pete’s head. He released me.

My breath shuddered as I scrambled up and backward. His blood skimmed my lips. Rage tightened Ken’s face as he glared at the monster he’d created.

Ken drew back his fist and slammed it into the side of Pete’s head. Pete’s grip on his gun loosened, and Ken twisted it from his grip. Ken struck Pete with the butt of the gun with a ferocity that laid bare Ken’s savage nature. Pete’s face was bloodied as he staggered to his feet.

Ken had saved me from Pete. But instead of being grateful, I was terrified of Ken.

“I should’ve done this before,” Ken growled.

He hauled Pete out of the room and shoved him down the stairs. At the bottom, he dragged a semiconscious Pete up and out the front door.

Digging my phone from my back pocket, I called Judson. My call went to voicemail. I begged Judson to hurry.