Page 55 of High Intensity

Something is very wrong.

But when I start to move, Wolff grabs me firmly by the shoulder and shakes his head.

“You…bathroom,”he mouths, as he grabs for the sweats I stripped out of last night and left on the floor, shoving them at me.“You hear anything, get out the window.”

The bedroom window is facing the front of the house, but the small bathroom window over the tub faces out the back.

“The alarm…the dogs…”

“I’ve got it,”he says, handing his phone to me. Mine is in the kitchen on the charger.“Get away from the house, hide, call 911, then High Meadow. Code is 1537 to unlock.”

“But—”

“Go. Now.”

He’s already reaching for the door when I dart into the bathroom.

My hands are shaking as I try to get my feet into the legs of my sweatpants.Shit, I don’t have socks. By now, my heart is hammering so hard it’s all I can hear. I shove Wolff’s phone in my pocket and carefully climb into the tub. I use the wide windowsill to store my shampoo and body wash, and quickly remove the bottles, setting them on the floor.

Making every effort to be as quiet as I can, I manage to take out the screen, unlock the window, only to find the window stuck when I try to slide it up.

The next moment, an ungodly loud crash sounds from somewhere inside the house, followed by the sharp crack of a gunshot. The sudden surge of adrenaline has me shoving at the window, putting all my weight into it, and with a high-pitched squeak, it slides open.

I perch on the narrow ledge of the tub on my toes and pull myself through the small window opening. Not ideal to go headfirst, especially not when I realize the bottom of the window is at least six feet from the ground, but I don’t have a choice.

More cracks of gunfire have me heave myself through, panicking for a moment when my hips get stuck, but with a goodkick of my legs and a hefty push off the window frame with my hands, I launch myself at the ground below.

I’m grateful for the snow breaking my fall, but the impact still stuns me for a moment. Or maybe it’s the cold hitting me all at once. Still, I scramble to my feet; I have to get moving.

I aim for the back of my yard, and duck behind the shed next to the dog kennel, already pulling Wolff’s phone from my pocket. My hands are shaking so hard it takes me three tries to unlock it. Then I call 911. I give the woman who answers the basics, but when she starts asking asinine questions, I hang up and quickly dial the ranch.

Jonas answers, and it’s clear I woke him.

“The fuck, Wolff. Something better be on fire for you to call at this hour.”

“It’s me, Jillian. Someone has broken into my house. Seventeen Terrace View Drive,”I rattle off in a whispered voice.“Wolff is still in the house. Shots were fired.”

“Where are you?” Jonas snaps.

“Behind the dog kennel out back.”

“Stay there. Don’t move. We’re on our way.”

Abruptly the line goes dead and a heavy silence settles in around me. I strain to hear noises that may be coming from the house, but if there are any, I’m not hearing them; the snow cover may be muffling the sound.

My body starts shivering to try and ward off the cold creeping up from my feet. Those are turning into ice clumps and I can’t feel my toes anymore. In hindsight, I wished I’d grabbed a towel or something from the bathroom I could’ve wrapped myself in, but I wasn’t exactly thinking straight.

The fear I’ve been able to keep at bay so far is fast taking hold, and my imagination runs away with me. Visions of Wolff lying in a pool of blood make it hard to follow through on Jonas’s instructions to stay put.

What if he’s hurt and needs help? I’m a nurse, I know mere seconds can mean the difference between life and death. I’ve done what Wolff asked of me, but I can’t simply hide here like a coward when I could be making a difference. That’s not my style.

Determined, I slip from my hiding spot and—sticking to the fence separating my property from the neighbor’s—retrace my steps back to the house. There’s no way I’ll be able to get back in the house through that bathroom window, it’s up too high for me to reach. My best option is to go around the side of the house and see if I can get safely in the front.

I keep my eye on the house as I approach but don’t detect any movement. I carefully lift the latch on the gate when I reach it, but can’t prevent the squeal of one of the hinges in desperate need of some oil. The sound cuts through the silence and I freeze for a moment, waiting for some kind of reaction. When I don’t hear anything, I slip through.

With my back to the side of the house, I keep my eyes fixed on the front, inching my way forward, when I’m suddenly grabbed from behind.

A surprised yell is trapped inside when a large hand clamps over my mouth.

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