Page 53 of Captured Heart

Sliding it on, I check myself in the mirror. It feels good to look like this again—confident, put-together, unshaken. It’s amazing the difference an outfit can make. I smooth the fabric over my hips, fixing my hair, when a dull thump echoes through the house.

I freeze.

“Hello?” I call out, my voice hesitant.

Nothing.

I strain my ears, trying to dismiss the unease creeping up my spine. It’s probably nothing. A branch against the window or the house settling.

Then the front door crashes open, the sound so violent it rattles the pictures on the wall.

My heart leaps into my throat.

Footsteps thunder in the hall downstairs, and voices follow, gruff and commanding.

“You go upstairs. I’ll check the living room.”

Panic hits me like a freight train, jolting me into action. I bolt for my bedroom door, slamming it shut just as the first set of footsteps barrels up the stairs.

“Hey! Upstairs!” one of them yells.

I press my weight against the door, struggling to hold it closed as a shoulder slams into it from the other side. The force almost knocks me backward, and I grit my teeth, digging my heels into the floor.

“Move!” the man growls, shoving harder.

The door flies open, throwing me off balance, and he bursts into the room. He’s smaller than I expected. Lean, slightly on the skinny side, but even with a ski mask on, that reckless look in his eyes is intimidating.

“Don’t touch me!” I scream, backing away.

He lunges, grabbing for me, but Alex’s voice echoes in my head:Upward thrust, fast and hard.

I thrust my palm up under his nose with every ounce of strength I can muster. There’s a sickening crunch as he howls.

“Bitch!”

And then a wild backhand flies at my face. I stumble. The impact is dizzying, and I’m disoriented for a second or two. But I recover faster than him. He’s still staggering back, clutching his face. Blood pours through the material of the ski mask and runs down his fingers.

I don’t stop to think. I run for the door.

But the other one is there. Bigger. Broader. His heavy boots pound against the floor as he hurdles toward me, and I slam straight into his chest. I double back, heading back the other way because I’m ready to hurl myself straight out the second-floor window to get away.

I don’t get far, though. His hand wraps around my wrist in an iron grip, halting my movements.

I twist, remembering Alex’s lesson.Rotate against the thumb. Break free.My body moves on instinct, and to my shock, it works. His grip breaks, and I dart past him, heading for the stairs.

I’m halfway down, but he’s right on my heels.I glance back just in time to see him leap over the banister, landing on his feet with a heavy thud. He’s like some kind of special forces agent.

I skid to a stop, my heart hammering in my chest. He’s fast. Too fast. He’s already on me, his arm locking around my shoulders.

“Let go!” I scream, writhing against him.

He holds tight, dragging me backward, but desperation fuels me. I twist my head and sink my teeth into his forearm.

He hisses in pain, his grip loosening just enough for me to break free.

I sprint for the front door, my bare feet skidding on the hardwood. My hand reaches for the doorknob, hope flickering in my chest.

But before I can turn it, he tackles me to the ground. The impact knocks the wind out of me, and I thrash wildly, clawing and kicking, but he’s too strong. A hand clamps over my mouth, muffling my screams. His other arm snakes around my waist, hoisting me up as if I weigh nothing.

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