Page 56 of The Keeper

My palms dampened with sweat, making the dough beneath my fingers sticky. I kneaded harder, trying to channel my fear and frustration into something productive. When it began to tear beneath my knuckles, I forced myself to set the overworked dough aside to rest before moving on to the next one.

A noise from the back hallway yanked me from my spiraling thoughts. My hands froze mid-knead, flour-covered fingers splayed against the half-formed dough. The clock on the wall read 4:17 AM—far too early for anyone else to be arriving.

I knew the sounds of this old building—the creak of settling wood, the low hum of the walk-in, the whir of the commercial mixer—butthis? This sent a chill up my spine and prickled the skin along my arms. Suddenly, the bakery felt too large…too empty.

My heart slammed against my ribs as I strained to listen. The silence stretched on, broken only by the hum of the refrigerators. Maybe it was just my imagination, fueled by lack of sleep and mounting anxiety. But then I heard it again. A soft scraping sound echoed in the pre-dawn quiet like someone trying to move quietly and failing.

Fear clawed its way up my throat, threatening to burst out in a scream. I forced it back down and glanced frantically around the kitchen, searching for anything I could use as a weapon. The gleam of a chef’s knife caught my eye, but it may as well have been miles away on the opposite side of the room.

My revolver. My revolver was in my purse on the back counter. Before I could move toward it, two figures stormed through the kitchen doors, their faces obscured by black ski masks. My body tensed, ready to flee, but there was nowhere to go. They had me cornered.

“Don’t even think about it,” the shorter of the two snarled, following my gaze to my phone.

I froze, my muscles rigid with fear. The taller one stepped forward, his eyes narrowing as he studied my face.

“Shit, man,” he said with a dark chuckle. “It’s Ghost’s Ol’ Lady. Well, well, well. This just got a whole lot more interesting.”

My mind reeled. How did these men know Dane? The questions swirled in my head, but terror clogged my throat and choked off any words I might have spoken.

“Let’s go.” The shorter one gestured toward the doors with his gun. “Now.”

They herded me toward Derek’s office, keeping their weapons pressed against the back of my neck. My legs felt like jelly, threatening to give out with each step.

One shoved me roughly from behind, sending me stumbling into the office. My hip collided with the sharp corner of Derek’s desk, and I fell to my knees with a muffled cry.

“Open the safe,” the shorter one demanded, jabbing the barrel of his gun against my temple.

“I-I don’t know the combination,” I stammered through chattering teeth.

He laughed, the harsh sound sending shivers down my spine. “Don’t lie to us, sweetheart. We know you’re the manager. Open it. Now.”

I bobbed my chin in a frantic nod and knelt in front of the safe, my heart pounding so violently I thought it might burst from my chest.

“Tick-tock,” the taller one taunted. I could almost hear the smirk in his tone, the perverse pleasure he took from my fear.

My hands trembled violently as I entered the combination, and the keypad blurred before my eyes. Instead of clicking open, the safe gave a series of beeps, indicating I’d entered the wrong code.

I tried again, my dough-covered fingers slipping on the dial. “I’m sorry. I can try?—”

The taller man yanked my head back so forcefully that he tore off my skull cap and a chunk of hair, wrenching a sharp cry of pain from my throat. He pressed the cold barrel of his gun against my trembling lips, tracing them with sickening deliberation.

“One more chance, sweetheart,” he growled, his breath hot against my ear. “Or I’ll give you something else to do with that pretty mouth of yours.”

Despite the bile rising in my throat and the tears streaming down my face, I managed to steady my shaking hands enough to enter the correct code. The soft click of it opening seemed deafening in the tense silence.

They shoved me aside and began greedily scooping stacks of bills into a duffel bag while I stumbled back, my legs threatening to give out. Once they had the money, they would leave.

But the taller man wasn’t done. Instead of leaving with his prize, he shoved me against the wall, using his body to pin me in place.

“Maybe we should send Ghost and his Silent Phoenix boys a message before we go,” he said, his eyes raking over me.

“I did what you asked me to do,” I said, panic surging through me. “J-just take what you want and go.”

The shorter man shifted uneasily. “Come on, man. We’re just supposed to scare her. Let’s grab the cash and go before someone catches us.”

“You go,” the taller one snapped, tearing my chef coat open with a vicious yank and scattering the buttons across the floor. “I’m not done with her yet.”

His retreating footsteps echoed through the bakery, followed by the slam of the back door. Then silence descended, broken only by my ragged sobs.

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