Page 88 of Shadow Dance

At least I’m inside—that’s the most important thing. Listening intently, I peek out the room and look up and down the hallway. To the left are the kitchen and living area, where all the noise was coming from. To the right is the bedroom Maeve shares with Cal.

Taking a deep breath, I go right and hope to God that I’m not too late.

Chapter 27

Maeve

Iwake suddenly, with a jolt.

It’s hard to tell what time it is, but I think it’s so late it’s becoming early. Callum’s not beside me. Did he ever even come to bed?

My head pounds viciously, probably from all that vodka.Stupid.You don’t even like vodka. I reach for the glass of water beside my bed only to realize that there isn’t one. I must’ve been too out of it earlier to grab one before going to sleep. Groaning, I peel myself off the bed and check my bathroom for Tylenol. A glance in the mirror as I search for what I need from the medicine cabinet tells me I look how I feel: like crap. And there’s no Tylenol.

I’m halfway down the hall when a loud crack halts me in my tracks. My heart seizes, and hot-cold tingles of fear prickle through my entire body. The sound, a gunshot, came from the living room, I think. I stand frozen for what feels like a small eternity before tiptoeing to the mouth of the hallway and peeking out.

Across the room and down the three steps leading into the sunken living room, Mac is asleep on the floor. The television’s still on, but muted. It’s freezing, and as I venture out farther, I realize two things: the front door is wide open and Mac isn’t sleeping.

He’s dead.

My throat closes. Terror shoots up my spine, wringing my stomach out, killing my heart. I back into the hallway and turn and run, returning to the relative safety of the bedroom. I’m shaking so hard I can barely pick up my phone, and even then, I’m having a hard time dialing. Maybe it’s for the best. I can’t call 911, can I?I have to.

Jaime appears, and I nearly scream, panic stealing my rationale.

He rushes to me, his face hardened by focus and purpose. “Put on your shoes. We have to go.”

“What—I thought—is this …?” I can’t formulate a proper thought, let alone express one.

Jaime shoves my coat at me. “I don’t know what this is. We have to go.Now.”

I shove my feet into a pair of sneakers and pull the coat over my pajamas.

Two gunshots ring out and glass shatters. There’s an agonized scream, and then we hear Callum cursing at someone. I’m simultaneously relieved he’s not dead and terrified that he’s so close by. Jaime grabs my arm and pulls me out of the bedroom, only to shove me back into it when the sounds of a scuffle start up.

“That's right, motherfucker.” Callum laughs—laughs—and then he’s right in front of us, a gun in his hand.

I flatten against the wall as he passes. “What’s happening?” I cry, trying to ignore the blood splatter on his shirt, the grotesque black eye.

“Not now, Maeve. The fuck.” He reaches beneath the bed and starts tearing it apart, looking for something.

I glance at Jaime, but his eyes are trained on Callum, who eventually looks up and sees him.

“What are you doing, man?” he asks.

“Heard shots, so I came to make sure you were okay,” Jaime says.

“Not okay, but not dead either.” Callum’s pupils are dilated, eyes wild.“Anyway, it took you long enough. I need you to follow me?—”

“I think we should secure Maeve first.”

“You can’t take her outside,” Callum says, finally pulling another gun from beneath the bed. “They could still be out there.”

“Who?” I ask.

“Shut up, shut up, shut up,” he chants, shoving bullets into the chamber of his gun.

“I don’t think she’s safe here," Jaime says evenly, and I wonder what he knows. He must’ve been outside just now too, right?

“Hide in the closet, Maeve. Just be quiet and chill,” Callum says, and now his voice is wobbling. “Either of you see Griff?”

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