Page 2 of Kings of Violence

I can’t afford to go down that dark spiral of thoughts.

I have to be strong, the way I always pretend to be.

The gunshot and ensuing silence are more eerie than if someone had exploded through the door. It’s impossibly quiet, and I distrust that more than sounds of violence. At least then I would know that Daniel and the others are okay. Daniel is a nice guy — or as much as one can be when working as an enforcer for the mob — and he’s been there for us through a few small scares.

This, though? This is no small scare.

I carefully lead Ma through the house. The safe room is near Pa’s office, behind a hidden door. It’s perfect for when you’re already in the office having secret gang meetings, but less so for when you’re on the opposite end of the house watching TV with a pint of ice cream.

A window shatters behind us. I whirl around just in time to see a gloved hand grab the ledge of the window.

I never even heard the bars getting removed.

Fuck.

“Run, Ma,” I hiss, pushing her down the hall. She stumbles, but she runs.

I have to give her credit for not screaming when the window broke.

A gunshot rings out, and a bullet flies past me, shattering the decorative vase in front of me.

This time, Ma does scream, and she freezes in place so abruptly that I crash into her.

If we get through this alive, I’m going to make her move into the fucking safe room, or finally convince her we need to downsize and move somewhere we aren’t so conspicuous. Never mind that Pa had helped build the place; never mind all the sentimentalities. Ifanything can convince her that safety is paramount, it has to be this.

Maybe my brother will even unwrap his lips from around his boyfriend’s cock long enough to help us.

Ugh. There’s no time for bitterness. I shove Ma again. We’re sitting ducks, and the safe room isn’t too far away.

We just have to get there.

In a situation like this, the homeowner has an advantage in the dark. The intruders don’t know where everything is.

The problem is, the place is so large that I barely remember where everything is, either. I almost crash into a wall before I remember I need to turn the corner. Ma isn’t faring much better, using the wall to steady herself.

If I had any kind of weapon on me — goddamnit — I might feel better about our chances, but I’d gotten careless.

“Come out,zaya,” a rough voice says from somewhere behind us. Down the hall, I think, but not nearly as far as I want it to be.

I’m going to vomit.

The terror has me damn near paralyzed, and Ma isn’t moving either.

I think the realization that I have no idea what to do is even worse than the fear. I always have a thought, a quip, a plan. It’s so rare for me to be caught completely off guard, off balance — but then, maybe James had robbed me of that too.

Fucking hell, Sierra,I tell myself.Now is not the time for this shit!

I need to save the trauma for later and work on survival for now.

“C’mon,” I whisper desperately. The only chance we have is to get to the safe room before this strange man catches up with us. If we’re lucky — and we have to be lucky — we can manage it.

Ma whimpers, but she starts moving again, too. I don’t want to risk running again, though. We have to hope the intruder is just as blinded as we are.

I hear a shout from somewhere else in the house, from a more familiar voice. That’s got to be one of the bodyguards. But several gunshots later, things are quiet again.

That means there’s more than one intruder. The man behind us, and whoever’s closer to the front door.

Ma sobs quietly, but I don’t reprimand her. I can barely keep it together as it is. My heart is pounding so fast that my chest hurts.

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