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I’m late.
Hurrying into the bedroom, I open my smaller suitcase and drop in a few nice pieces of clothing I haven’t worn yet. In the bathroom, I pack a small bag with my medication and toiletries. I take a second to touch up my makeup and apply light pink lip gloss, dabbing it onto my cheeks for added effect.
My phone pings.
I scowl when I see the ranch’s Instagram account has a comment fromLassomamav76.
Sick of these boring, blah pictures.
I shake my head vigorously, irritation weaving through me.
Who are you?
I don’t wait. I head straight for my computer.
On impulse, I dragLassomamav76’sdownloaded avatar into my photo editing software. I work quickly, changing the pixel dimensions to enlarge the image. There has to be something I can find out about this woman.
There.
I see it.
I lean in to my computer, stomach churning.
Her belt buckle.
It’s shiny, studded with turquoise, two crossed shotguns in the middle of the scalloped rectangle. Etched below them are the wordsBe Victorious. Be Valiant. Be Vicious.
That’s when something clicks on in my head.
I’ve seen that phrase before. But where?
I have to tell Charlie.
Moving faster, I hop up from the kitchen table and rush into the bathroom. I zip up my toiletries bag. Through the small bathroom window, I catch a glimpse of Charlie’s cabin. Thunder rumbles across the sky. Sun and shadow cross paths, casting strange umbras over the ranch.
That’s when I hear my front door open.
I freeze.
That’s when I hear it lock.
Unease prickles at the back of my spine as I leave the bathroom.
“Charlie?” I breathe, stepping into my bedroom doorway to peer into the living room.
I gasp.
A man stands in the entryway, wearing a black mask. He’s tall but hunched over like he’s trying not to be noticed.
Don’t hurt me, I want to say, but I can’t form the words.
We lock eyes for a long second, then he shuffles forward, almost hesitating.
And then—we both move at once.
I jerk backward, trying to slam the bedroom door to lock it and buy me time, but he’s in the room before I can get it closed.
He advances, rushing the space between us. In a panic, I scramble onto the bed and try to unlatch the window. If I can crawl through, I can make it to Charlie’s. I’m sliding the window open when he grabs me by the ankle and pulls me off the bed. I kick back and struggle, rolling around on the ground in a desperate attempt to free myself. Finally, my foot connects with his knee and he swears, lets me loose.
