Page 196 of Bishop

She’s in pretty pink pajamas, her little toes covered in fluffy purple socks as she fights the bitch holding her.

“Freeze,” Bishop shouts from somewhere to my left.

My mother’s gaze snaps to the yard. The guard’s gun swings in the same direction.

Evil eyes narrow on me.

“Kill them,” Adena commands.

I struggle for breath. Frozen. In shock.

After years thinking on my feet, I’m lost in a sea of desolation, unable to flee when my daughter is so close and in trouble. I can’t even move to escape the aim of the pistol as the barrel claims me in its sights.

“Abri,” Bishop roars, the crunch of his rampant footsteps approaching. “Get down.”

Pops blast the air, the sound ringing through my malfunctioning brain.

I wait for impact. For pain.

It’s the guard who jolts, blood splattering from his chest as he stumbles on the porch. Another bullet hits his face, sending his head flying backward, his body following the momentum to hit the ground with a thud.

“You bastard,” my mom screeches.

Bishop clambers in front of me, shoving me behind him as he points his gun at my mother. “Put the girl down, Adena.”

I peer around his shoulder, watching my mother scowl, her chin high with superiority.

Tilly no longer fights for freedom. She stares. Skin ashen. Eyes wide. Expression pure horror.

“It’s okay, sweetheart.” My voice waivers. “You’re going to be okay.”

She doesn’t acknowledge my words. She’s too young or too frightened to understand.

“Put her down,” Bishop repeats, cautiously approaching the porch.

“Stay where you are.” My mom wraps a tight arm around Tilly’s neck, reigniting the little girl’s fight for freedom, her tiny hands gripping the forearm strangling her.

“Stop. She can’t breathe.” I make to run around Bishop, to claw my daughter from my mother’s hands, but he slings an arm around my waist, hauling me backward.

“Don’t, belladonna.” He shoves me behind him, one hand remaining tight on my thigh as he continues to aim his gun at my mother. “You’re on your own, Adena.” He steps forward, his touch leaving me. “This isn’t going to end well for you.”

“Fine,” she snaps. “I’ll put her down. But the two of you need to back away from the drive. I want access to my car.”

“No.” I shake my head.

She wouldn’t give up this easily. She plans to leave with my daughter. To disappear.

“Just put the girl down and we can talk.” Bishop inches closer, so slowly I can’t stand it.

My mother removes her arm from around Tilly’s neck, my daughter’s body losing the rigidity, the bright red seeping from her face as she wheezes for air between hysterical hiccupped sobs.

She’s so frail. So scared.

“I already said I was putting her down.” Adena leisurely crouches beside the lifeless guard, Tilly’s feet hitting the wooden porch floor. “See.” But instead of releasing her victim, my mother reaches for the guard’s gun.

“Stop,” I gasp as Bishop runs for them.

I follow. The weapon is jabbed against the back of my child’s head before we even reach the porch steps.

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