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I drop to the floor and everything disappears.
Fear holds me prisoner the whole drive and my knuckles are white where I grasp the wheel. When I reach the house, I park half on the driveway and half on the street and immediately jump out of the truck. I was exhausted only an hour ago, but now my body is hard-wired with adrenaline, and I feel like I could take on anything.
It’s obvious that my gut instinct of something being wrong was, in fact, right.
Malcolm’s car is still here, but he’s not.
The tinkling of a dog collar has me looking down and I find Prue staring up at me, and that’s definitely not normal.
I take off running for the front door, which is open.
Each of my heartbeats seems to be chanting Thea, Thea, Thea and I know I have to get to her.
I pause, listening to the soft sounds of the house. Everything is eerily silent and that’s the scariest part and I hope to God I’m not too late.
I head down the hall and glance in the kitchen. A bowl is knocked on the floor and fruit is scattered around, but other than that, it seems undisturbed.
Further down the hall I go, my steps as quiet as possible.
I poke my head into the bathroom.
Empty.
The wave of panic grows even bigger inside me.
There’s only one room left.
The laundry room.
The door is cracked open slightly and I place my hand on the cool wood and push.
It swings open.
I brace myself for what I might find.
Malcolm Montgomery lies on the floor in a pool of blood and Lauren stands above him, the gun shaking in her hands. She raises it, pointing it at me, and I lift my hands in surrender.
“Lauren, it’s me, Xander,” I say softly. Her face is wet with tears, her hair matted from struggle, and there’s blood coming from her arm. I can’t tell whether it’s a cut or she was shot too.
“Is he dead?” she asks, her voice wobbling.
I bend down and the blood makes a squishing sound when I step in it. I’ve never been one to be queasy but my stomach is rolling.
I bend down and press my fingers to his neck, feeling for a pulse. “He’s still alive for now.” I stand back up again and hold my hand out to Lauren. “Give me the gun.”
“I’m not going to go to jail, am I?” she sobs. “H-He came after me. I-I did what I had to do.”
“You’re not going to jail,” I tell her, even though I have no idea when it comes to this kind of thing. “Did he shoot you?” I point to her bleeding arm.
“I-I don’t remember,” she sniffles, and finally, thankfully, gives me the gun.
“Come on,” I tell her, trying to take her hand.
“You don’t need to stay in here.”
“I shouldn’t have gone outside,” she mumbles, chin shaking as she holds back tears. “He hurt Thea.”
My body goes cold. “Where is Thea?”
