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But a sudden spray of gunfire sends them scrambling back inside.
“Fuck!” James shouts. “Get in the house!”
My brain lagging a bit behind, I don’t get a chance to run inside before James is roughly shoving Sonya into me.
Abel and Alex both start to wail.
Sonya cries out and I do my best not to trip and fall.
Not caring if he hurts us or not, James continues to shove us until he can slam the door shut.
“Safe room!” he roars.
A split-second later, holes suddenly appear in the top of my door and a window explodes.
At least that’s what it looks like until I realize what’s happening.
Those aren’t normal holes letting shafts of light in… They’re bullet holes.
“Get in the fucking safe room!” James roars at us again, so loud I’m surprised he didn’t blow out all the blood vessels in his throat.
Snapping out of my daze, I grab Sonya’s arm and drag her to the basement door.
When Jude showed me the safe room and explained how it works, I thought he was overly paranoid.
Now I’m eternally grateful he had the forethought.
“What’s going on?!” Sonya cries out, dragging her feet as I pull her along. “Why are there people shooting at us?”
“I don’t know!” I shriek, freaked the fuck out.
Any second now, a bullet could come through a wall and kill me or Abel…
I let go of Sonya long enough to yank the basement door open, then tug her down the stairs with me.
Sonya must be completely out of it though because she tries to fight me. “We should leave. We need to call the police!”
Digging my fingers into her arm, I grit my teeth and use all of my strength to keep her moving. “We can’t leave, they’ll shoot us! We’ll call the police from the safe room!”
“What the fuck is a safe room?!” she shrieks.
My temples beginning to throb with pain from all the screaming and crying, I ignore her question.
It’s best just to show her.
Once we reach the bottom of the stairs without breaking our necks, I drag her over to the large painting hanging on the back wall.
“What the fuck is that?” Sonya gasps and attempts to yank her arm back.
“It’s a painting,” I grind out and finally release my hold on her.
“Yes, I can see that,” she says with some attitude, “but who the hell has a painting likethat?!”
Running my fingers along the gold frame, I search for the hidden button Jude showed me. “Art is subjective, and it’s worth a lot of money...”
Sonya scoffs. “Sure, art is, but that’s not art. That’s… that’s… creepy!”
Yesterday… hell, a few minutes ago, I’d agree with her. When I first saw the painting, I was creeped out too. Two naked men fighting in hell with a demon watching gleefully is pure nightmare fuel.
