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Someone was in my bedroom, and from the sound of it, tearing through my belongings. I stifled a terrified sob and looked around for something to protect myself.
The noise stopped abruptly, and an assailant in all black dashed out of my room and toward me, fury in his eyes. “Fucking bitch,” he swore, reaching for me.
“Don’t come any closer! Get out of here!” I shouted, hoping the neighbors would hear.
He advanced on me, menace radiating off of him. “Where’s the data from the Marathon building?”
My eyes widened. Shit. He was here about the money laundering. Terror coursed through my veins as he slammed into me, shoving me back against my kitchen counter. I squeaked in pain as my back hit the granite edge. “Are you looking for a copy of it? I’ll give you a thumb drive!”
The man chuckled darkly and punched me in the stomach. I doubled over, nausea coursing through me as I wheezed in pain.
“Stop investigating the building, and erase all copies of the data,” he snarled.
“I can’t!” I wailed, trembling in fear.
“Your loss, bitch,” he answered, raising his hand to hit me again.
I slammed my foot into the man’s instep and dropped to the ground, before scrambling to my feet, grateful for my weekly self-defense classes. I sobbed, flailing for anything within my grasp to defend myself with. My fingers wrapped around the cast iron pan sitting on my stovetop. I raised it and slammed it into the man’s head with a feral scream.
He fell to the ground and I sagged against the counter, dropping the cast iron pan to the floor with a jolting clang. Oh no. I knelt beside him, desperately searching for a pulse. Nothing. Nothing. Had I killed him?
A shuddering cry escaped me as worry and terror overcame me, replacing the rush of adrenaline that’d sustained me just moments before.
What do I do?
I grabbed my phone and dialed the one person I knew could take care of this, would take care of me, no matter what.
“Piper?” Benedict’s deep voice answered.
“Benedict?” I sobbed. “I need your help, please.”
“What’s wrong?” he barked.
“I think I killed a man,” I whispered into the phone, dropping onto the ground beside the body, tears streaming down my face, guilt, worry, and fear drowning me.
“Where are you, princess?”
“My apartment,” I answered, his calm voice washing over me, warming me, reassuring me.
“Are you hurt? Princess, are you okay?” The panic in his voice twisted something deep inside of me. I needed this man so badly.
“I’m not hurt,” I said, staring into space, avoiding looking at the body beside me, waiting for him to tell me what to do.
“Call the police, love. I’ll be there soon. You’re going to be okay, I promise.”
I nodded, even though he couldn’t see me. The weight of his vow settled my nerves enough that I could breathe, even if it didn’t assuage my fear and guilt.
I hung up and dialed 9-1-1, finally.
Minutes later, uniformed officers knocked on my door, finding me on the floor, my suit askew, beside the body.
“Ma’am, can we come in?”
I nodded.
“What happened?”
One of the officers offered me his hand so I could stand. I took it and dragged myself up off the floor. Another knock sounded at the door, and Benedict strode in.
