Page 18 of Protected from Torment

Fear shoots through me so quickly, I’m frozen for a second.

Someone’s in the house.

Oh, God. Someone’s in the house.

This time, it’s not Vince’s voice speaking silently to me. It’s Tyler’s.

Run, he orders. Dial 911. Grab Oscar and get out of there. Now.

Spinning on my heel, I sprint for the living room. I wish I could call 911, but I can’t spare the time to look at my phone. Instead, I put all my effort into getting out of the house.

Oscar sees me running towards him and leaps off the couch. He thinks it’s a game. I snag his collar and drag him along with me, hissing, “Come. Now.”

I’m halfway across the living room when a hand clamps around my upper arm and hauls me backward. I’m yanked with such force, my shoulder pops.

As I crash against a heavy wall of a chest, the same man who came to my door growls, “Don’t fucking scream. Or I’ll kill you. And the dog, too.”

Terror explodes inside me.

No. No. No.

Not Oscar. No.

Fear turns me into a dervish, kicking and bucking. My fingers scrabble at my phone as I desperately try to remember how to make an emergency call without seeing the screen.

Then I’m slammed into the wall, driving the air out of me.

He wrenches the phone from my hand, yanking at my wrist until something snaps. Then he flings the phone across the room and snarls, “Where’s the fucking package? I know you have it. Give it to me. Now.”

“I… I don’t have it…” I stammer. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Please. Just leave.”

“Bitch!” He shoves me into the wall again. My forehead raps against it, and my eyes fill with tears. “I paid two Gs for it. And I’m not leaving until I get it.”

Pain is firing through my head. My wrist. My shoulder.

I haven’t been this frightened since the day I opened the door to find a casualty assistance officer waiting outside, and I just knew he was there about Vince.

“Please,” I beg. “I don’t have anything. I don’t know what you’re talking about. If you want money, I have some. Just let me go⁠—”

“No!” he roars. “I want the fucking coke you promised!”

Then he laughs, low and menacing, right by my ear. “Maybe you’ll show me where it is if I use your precious dog for leverage.”

No!

Hurting me is one thing. But not Oscar.

With a strength I didn’t know I had, I jerk myself out of his grip. I grab Oscar’s collar again and drag him away from the man. Oscar is growling. Barking. He’s frantic to protect me.

I only have a split second to decide what to do next.

A closet isn’t safe enough.

Neither are the bedrooms.

I need to get him outside. In the dark. Where he can’t be found.

The man’s hand glances off my shoulder as I sprint for the front door. As I pass one of the end tables, I snatch up a lamp and fling it at him. He yelps, and the distraction gives me just enough of an opening to reach the door. Once I reach it, I yank the chair out from under the doorknob and throw it to the side.