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Eyes trained on the French doors at the back of the house, I catch the reflection of a lone masked figure as he approaches the end of the hall. Now that he’s on carpet, I can’t hear his footsteps but I see him linger just past the corner. Judging by his body language, he’s uncertain. He doesn’t want to hurt me—it’s why he didn’t while I was asleep—but he’s willing to. Asleep I was vulnerable.
Now I’m not.
But he doesn’t need to know that. At least not yet.
I force out a quiet sob, saying loud enough for both men to hear, “Kordin, I’m scared. What’s going on? What do I do?”
The intruder spins around, putting his back to the wall, too, and at first, his masked face is trained on the corner as he listens, but when I whimper again, he turns his head until his gaze finds mine in the glass’s reflection.
Easing my hold on my torso, I let my shivering take over my body so it looks like it’s fear I’m shaking from, not chills.
“Please,” I half-mouth, half-whisper to really sell it. I even put a bend in my knees like they’re giving out. If anything, it just puts me closer to the floor to dodge his bullets should they come flying my way.
The hand holding his gun goes limp at his side a moment before disappearing behind his back. When it reappears, it’s empty.
He put his gun away. He’s buying it.
I’m not. There could still be others. I haven’t smelled them, heard them, or seen them, but that could be part of the strategy. This guy might be the decoy.
Decoy for what exactly? I’m not sure. About any of this.
I keep my senses alert, not letting my guard down an inch, but slump forward.
“Go,” the deep, unfamiliar voice commands, raising the hairs on my arms.
Go?
“Where?”
“To your husband.”
To Kordin? Does that mean he’s letting me go?
My eyes don’t stray from his as I inch down the hallway, my shoulder blades scraping the wall the entire time. He doesn’t make any moves, just watches my retreat. There’s something about his stare. It’s assessing, but there’s something else in it, too. Something that warms me up just enough to counteract the cold. It’s not the mask. I’ve encountered too many masked figures to be affected by the sight anymore. It’s what’s under the mask. I can’t even make out the color of his eyes, yet I canfeelthe depth in them.
Only when I reach Kordin’s office do I remove my gaze from the intruder’s to push off the wall and stand just outside the threshold. Among all the books and décor littering the floor is my husband attempting to drag himself through what appears to be a lake of his own blood. He’s only in a pair of what were white pajama pants but are now splashed in red. For some reason, maybe from the altercation, his cock must’ve sprung free and is just…sagging as he scoots forward.
My husband has never looked as powerless as he does in this moment. He’s neverbeenas powerless as he is in this moment.
“Don’t move, Kordin,” I say while sending a glimpse sideways. Filling the other end of the hall now, the intruder’s observing me directly instead of through a reflection. He’s more imposing to regard head-on, and strangely harder to look away from.
“Safe,” Kordin gasps.
Tearing my eyes away, I turn back to my husband, his left arm extended in front of him, his whole body visibly shaking.
“Shh. I’m safe,” I tell him.
“Help…”
“We’ll get help. Just stay still until I can…”
Kordin’s outstretched hand latches on to the edge of his desk, finally pulling my attention up from the floor. I barely even register the towel there as I zero in on the laptop next to it. An image of Kordin and some woman, clearly fucking themselves to each other, fills the screen.
“What’s happening?” I ask, my voice rising as I feel that scream claw its way to the top of my throat. “What is this?”
Movement has me whipping my head to the side, the hand with the gun already midair, but the hall’s empty. Where’d he go? Why’d he do this?
Not a second later, I hear Kordin tap a series of buttons and look over just in time to see his screen go black before he slams the laptop shut.
