Page 57 of The Keeper

I was alone with a monster.

Dane’s world had come crashing into mine, and I was suddenly the currency in a game I never wanted to play.

“No, please don’t do this,” I begged, thrashing against him as he forced my sports bra up over my breasts.

Images of Avery flashed before my eyes. What if I didn’t make it home to her?

“Please. I have a baby.” My broken pleas fell on deaf ears, his eyes utterly void of empathy.

“I have a baby,” he parroted in a high-pitched voice, tracing the column of my throat with the gun before dragging it down to my breasts. He pressed the barrel against my nipple, pushing the tight bud down like a button, and let it spring free before moving to the other side.

“Please let me go,” I said through chest-heaving sobs.

He changed tactics and began scraping the barrel over my nipples, flicking them up and down like someone would a light switch. “Be a good girl, and I’ll let you go after.”

Black spots danced at the edges of my vision, my breaths coming in short, shallow bursts because I knew as well as he did I wasn’t leaving this room alive.

I’d go to my death with pastry dough wedged beneath my fingernails and his hot, rancid breath filling my nostrils.

He jammed the gun into my breast just beneath my heart before fumbling with his pants. The metallic clink of the buckle coming undone echoed in my ears like a death knell.

“Ghost is gonna feel this one.”

Something snapped inside me. Fueled by fear and desperation, a primal rage surged through my body. I wouldn’t let this happen.

I clawed at his eyes, my nails raking across the exposed skin. He roared in pain and fury before backhanding me so hard my headsnapped to the side. The force of the blow left me reeling, my vision exploding in a burst of white-hot pain. My legs buckled beneath me, and I crumpled to the floor.

He was on top of me in an instant, pinning my arms beneath his knees. I thrashed wildly, but he outweighed me by at least a hundred pounds.

“Shouldn’t have done that, bitch.” He licked a wet stripe up my throat. “Even Ghost won’t be able to put you back together when I’m done with you.”

Beads of sweat trickled down my temple to mingle with my tears. I squeezed my eyes shut, willing this to be nothing more than a horrible nightmare. But the acrid stench of his sweat and the feel of his hands on me was all too real.

“No!” I screamed, my voice raw and desperate. “Please, don’t?—”

A deafening bang drowned out my screams, followed by a warm spray across my face. For a split second, I thought I’d been shot. But then my attacker’s body collapsed on top of me.

I shoved him off with a strangled cry, my ears still ringing from the gunshot. Blood and gray matter pooled beneath his masked head, his empty eyes fixed on nothing.

Derek stood in the doorway, his face ashen and the gun trembling in his outstretched hands.

“I didn’t mean to kill him,” he mumbled, his eyes wide with shock. “You were screaming. I just wanted him to stop. I didn’t mean to kill him.”

The full weight of what had just occurred crashed over me, and I scrambled backward, my hands slipping in the sticky red puddle spreading out from his body. My back hit the wall, and I curled in on myself, violent sobs racking my body. The coppery scent of blood filled my nostrils, mixing sickeningly with the lingering smell of yeast and sugar.

Time seemed to stretch and warp, each second an eternity. The ringing in my ears faded, replaced by the pounding of my own heartbeat and Derek’s ragged breathing.

“We have to call the police,” I managed through chattering teeth.

He continued staring blankly at the floor as if he hadn’t heard me. I tugged my bra down and fumbled with the torn edges of my coat,struggling to hold it closed as I unsteadily made my way over to where he stood, holding his gun on the man’s body. His index finger hovered over the trigger in a way I didn’t trust.

With shaking hands, I carefully pried it from his fingers and laid it on the desk before turning back to him. “Give me your phone.”

He fumbled for his phone and unlocked it before passing it over. “You were screaming. I didn’t mean to kill him.”

“I know. You did the right thing,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper. My fingers left bloody smears on the screen as I dialed 911.

The police arrived in a flurry of flashing lights and barked orders. I huddled in the corner, arms wrapped tightly around myself as they swarmed the bakery. Their voices blurred together, an endless barrage of questions I couldn’t begin to process.

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