Save Me(WITSEC #2)(3)

I tried.

Sirens in the distance was the last thing I heard.





The front door was in sight as I crept toward it. I strained to listen for any sound that would give me a hint of where Mr. X was in the house. I heard nothing. Just the hum of the air-conditioning blowing through the vents.

Ten more steps until I reached the front door…nine more steps…eight more…

The wood floor creaked under the weight of my foot. My whole body tightened up as the sound echoed through the silent house. With my heart booming in my ears, I took a quick look around, bracing for him to jump out. When he didn’t, I zeroed in on the front door. It was my only hope—my only way out. I rushed the remaining distance, my pace quick and no longer quiet. I lifted my hand, reaching for my freedom.

My fingers barely brushed the doorknob when a hand grabbed me by my hair and yanked me back. I let out a loud, broken scream as my back collided with the front of Mr. X’s body.

“I can’t let you go.” His cold voice was devoid of emotion.

That made me pause. In the nick of time, I caught sight of his knife coming up toward my throat. I caught his wrist and forearm with my hands before the knife could reach me.

He pulled my head back harder, exposing my throat. I let out a strangled grunt as I fought against his strength. His knife inched closer and closer as my arms weakened.

Think!

I took the risk to look around, desperate to find anything that would help me. There was nothing close.

Think!

What would Logan do? I thought back to the few self-defense moves he had taught Shayla and me on our last trip to Texas. We had been at the beach. The memory of Shayla’s laughter echoed in my head; she’d pretended to stomp on Logan’s instep and dropped to the sand, squealing as she’d crawled away from him. She hadn’t taken Logan’s lesson seriously but had humored him nonetheless.

I pulled myself back to my horrific reality. With the last bit of strength I had, I pushed Mr. X’s blade back a little, then slammed my foot down on his. The moment his grunt reached my ears, I dropped to the floor, losing a good chunk of hair in the process. I refused to let the burning on my scalp slow me down. I shot back to my feet and hurried for the door.

“No!” he bellowed behind me before a searing pain sliced across my shoulder blade. Crying out, I stumbled and fell against the door. I grabbed the doorknob to keep me from falling completely to the ground. I twisted it, the door swung open, and I felt the warmth of the sun on my skin for only a breath before his arms locked around my waist. Lifted into the air, I thrashed and screamed as loud as I could, hoping anyone might hear me with the door open.

Then I was airborne. The air was knocked from my lungs as my spine slammed against the wooden stairs. Mr. X braced himself above me by holding himself up with one hand on the step behind my head. “You are mine!” he roared in my face. Spittle hit my cheeks and his rancid breath filled my nose. My breath hitched. Not from the smell. But from the excruciating pain that exploded in my stomach.

He stabbed me.

His knife was buried in my stomach. Time slowed as he withdrew. His eyes were dilated, emotionless, pitch-black depths as he stared down at me. Blood clung to his black and gray stubble along his jawline and chin. “No one else can have you,” he said, sounding detached as he plunged the knife back into my stomach.

I didn’t know why I put my hands on his shoulders as he withdrew the knife again. I didn’t know why I met his eyes or why I asked him, “Don’t you love me?” I didn’t know what possessed me to say that, but it made him pause and I could have sworn I saw regret in his eyes. I took that as my chance to ram my knee between his legs. He made a choking noise. His hand that was holding him up gave out and he fell on top of me. Shoving him to the side, I rolled off the stairs to the floor. With a hand pressed to my bleeding abdomen, I forced myself to my feet.

I made it out the open front door into the blinding sunlight. “Help me!”





Eyes flying open, I shot up from where I was lying and pressed my hands to where Mr. X had stabbed me. The first thing I saw was Keelan. He was standing next to the bed I was lying on. He put his hands on my shoulders. “Shilo—”

“Help me!” I begged him, trying to climb out of the bed, but his grip on me kept me where I was. “He stabbed me.” My voice shook as I spoke. I pulled my hands away from my stomach to show him the blood. My hands came away clean. There wasn’t any blood in sight. Even the light gray shirt I was wearing was spotless and intact. No—it wasn’t a shirt. It was a hospital gown, and I was in a hospital bed.

I quickly glanced around the room. Another surprise was that Knox was standing at the foot of my bed, staring at me with his signature frown.

Glancing back down at my trembling hands, which weren’t covered in blood, I doubted what I was seeing. “He stabbed me,” I said again. It had just happened. I had felt it. I had felt the knife tear through my skin and bury itself deep.

“Shiloh,” Keelan said gently.

I heard him. I just couldn’t take my eyes off my hands. I didn’t understand. What was happening?

“Shiloh!” Keelan barked, startling me out of my trance. I met his wide, golden-brown eyes. “You weren’t stabbed, baby girl.”

Knox finally spoke. “I don’t think she’s talking about what happened with Jacob.”