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“I’m exhausted.” I fall back on the bed with my arms spread out. After a moment, I feel Chanel jump up by my feet.
“What about you, Chanel?” Turning my head, I see she’s curled in a ball and falling asleep. “Yeah, a nap sounds good.”
I quickly text Zane to let him know I made it and will probably be out for the rest of the night.
Cameron: Chanel and I made it safely. All unpacked and just waiting for you now :) I’m gonna go to bed. Love you!
Setting my phone on the nightstand, I stand and head to the bathroom. The jet tub looks so damn tempting, but I’ll have plenty of time to use it tomorrow.
After I change into my comfy clothes, I brush my teeth and wash my face.
Once I’m tucked into bed, I check my phone and frown when I don’t see a response from Zane. Maybe he’s on his way here to surprise me and can’t text because he’s driving. Before I think too much about it, my eyelids grow heavy, and I fall asleep with Chanel snuggled into my side.
Blinking awake, I sit up in bed and recall where I am.
The Roxbury cabin.
Then I remember what woke me. A loud noise.
Chanel is no longer sleeping either, which means she heard it too.
Grabbing my phone, I check the time and for any messages from Zane. It’s half past midnight, and I’m exhausted. If Zane decided to come early, he would’ve called or sent a text to let me know.
Another deafening crash has me jumping.
“Oh my God…” My breathing picks up, and I panic.
Someone’s in my house!
Looking around for something, I see one of my mother’s marble statues on the dresser. It’s heavy and could probably break a skull. I don’t have time to think twice before I grab it and tiptoe to my bedroom door. More noise echoes from downstairs, and I know it’s probably some dumb kids hoping to steal something they can sell. Joke’s on them because my parents never keep any expensive possessions here.
Putting my ear against the wood, I listen for footsteps. When I hear another ear-piercing boom vibrate through the house, my heart drops into my stomach. I could call the cops, but by the time they arrived, the murderer would have me chopped into a thousand pieces and thrown into the pond.
Slowly, I open the door and poke my head out, holding the statue tight in my grip. The hallway light glows, and I check both ways before stepping out. I walk toward the staircase and yelp when Chanel rubs against my leg.
“Chanel, no! Get back here!” I whisper-hiss, hoping she’ll actually listen to me. Instead, she runs down the first set of stairs, and I follow as quietly as I can. “Chanel!”
As I chase her, I keep an eye out for a potential killer. If she outs me being up here and gets us both caught, I might strangle her. When I’m on the second level, I notice the kitchen light is on, but I distinctly remember turning it off.
Gripping the marble tighter, I prepare myself to fight for my life as I walk down the final staircase. When I move closer, I see a large duffel bag on the kitchen counter and the fridge is wide open. Did someone break into a multi-million-dollar cabin to steal food?
While I discreetly scan the space, my rapid breathing is the only sound I hear until Chanel loses her shit, and complete chaos ensues.
She hisses, jumping from the floor to the island, then leaps off the countertop as a huge Doberman chases after her. A man is hunched in front of the refrigerator and tries to stand when the dog plows him over. He’s unsteady on his feet and tries to catch his fall. The moment he turns toward me, I freak out and throw the statue at his face. It falls to the ground with a deep thud and surprisingly doesn’t break.
“Ow, what the fuck?” a deep voice groans as he takes a hit to the cheek. Chanel is having a fit as I try to grab her.
Then to make matters worse, the Doberman barks and growls at me like I’m his next meal. Chanel hisses and runs into the living room, and the dog gives chase at a full sprint.
“Chanel!” I panic and turn toward the criminal. “Get your fucking dog away from my cat!” I beg. “I’ll pay you whatever you want, just don’t let him kill her!”
“Cami?” His deep voice catches my attention, and my body freezes.
I look over and finally meet his eyes that are squinting at me. Swallowing hard, I narrow my gaze at the man who’s broken into my house and called me by a nickname I haven’t heard in years.
Releasing a frustrated breath, I’m nearly panting when I ask, “What the hell are you doing here, Eli?”
