Page 141 of Puck Princess

How can I tell him what he wants to hear when I don’t even know why he’s here?

My heart rate slows. My body stills. Every fiber of me is focused on navigating these next few seconds.

I am so afraid of what he is thinking, what he’s going to do, that I feel frozen. “Then why are you here?”

Spencer leans over me, his face twisting in hate. “I’m here to kill you.”

It’s every nightmare I’ve ever had wrapped into one.

This is the last face I’m ever going to see.

The last voice I’m ever going to hear.

The time for appeasing him is over. Now, I have to fight.

I try to grab him and shove him off of me, but he pins my hands down. So I drive my knee up and straight into his crotch.

His mouth opens in a silent scream, and I’m able to shove him off of me. I get on my hands and knees to crawl away, but I only get a foot or two before he grabs me by the leg, yanking me back. That’s when I see it. The flash of silver.

The knife.

I reach out for it, the handle cold against my palm.

When he jerks me towards him, I roll onto my back… and I stab him.

The blade sinks into his body too easily. I don’t know if I’ve hit anything vital, but it’s enough for him to stop.

It’s enough that he lets go of me, and I scramble away, backing towards the couch where my phone is still on the cushion where I dropped it.

But just as I’m about to dial 911, Kennedy comes flying through the back door, a taser in her hand.

“What the fuck is happening?” she screams.

“Spencer…” I turn around and point towards the kitchen.

There’s blood on the kitchen floor. The knife is there, too.

But the front door is open.

And Spencer is gone.

46

OWEN

Kennedy sobs into the phone. She is blubbering and gasping between words, and I can’t make anything out other thanCallieandattacked.

But Callie is at home. She’s in my apartment. No one would attack her there.

“Where are you?” I ask, shoving away from my barstool at Pour Boys.

This night out was supposed to be my celebration, but I’m one of the last sober men standing. Me and Lance have only had a few beers because someone needed to be able to drive the rest of the guys home tonight. Plus, I didn’t really feel like getting hammered. I’m still buzzing from the day. From finding out Callie and I are having a daughter. And knowing, when I head home, I’ll find Callie warm in my bed.

But as Kennedy tries and fails to form coherent thoughts, I’m suddenly not sure what the fuck I’m going to find when I get home. And I’m beyond glad I’m sober.

“At home. Your apartment,” she manages. “I called 911.”

The guys are laughing, drinking, fucking around as usual, but Lance has caught on to something being wrong and stands up with me, questioning me with his eyes.

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