Page 39 of Vendetta Vows

Then, I hear the sound of the door unlocking.

What the fuck? What the actual fuck?

The hinges squeak as the door swings open.

Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!

The options flash through my mind as I scramble back to my bedroom window. My shaking hands fight with the latch. Why won't it fucking open?

Heavy footsteps cross our living room floor.

Not Kristofer, not Kristofer, please not Kristofer...

I claw at the window, but it's stuck. Of course it's stuck. The universe wasn't holding its breath to see if I'll make it out alive.

It's actively trying to kill me.

The bedroom door crashes open.

I spin around, back pressed against the window, ready to face what I've been running from for seven years.

But it's not Kristofer.

A tall man stands in my doorway, his face unfamiliar but his intentions crystal clear from the wicked blade clutched in his hand.

The knife turns, and I can't help but notice an eight-pointed star tattooed on the back of his hand.

His eyes lock onto mine. Cold. Emotionless. Professional.

And I know what he's here to do.

Survival instinct takes over.

My backpack flies from my hands, hoping to catch him by surprise. But he catches it with his free hand, barely losing his balance.

A string of words that I can't understand tumbles from his lips. His voice is flat, emotionless. Then he takes a step towards me.

No time to scream. No time to think.

I kick a nearby chair between us, sending it skidding across the floor. It crashes into his shins, but he simply steps over it like it's nothing more than a minor annoyance.

My bedroom suddenly feels impossibly small. The window behind me won't budge. The door is blocked by a killer who moves with practiced efficiency. I'm trapped like an animal, cornered in my own home.

"Please," I whisper, backing up until I feel the windowsill pressing into my spine.

He doesn't respond. His eyes are empty, calculating. This isn't personal for him.

The glint in the distance.I realize.Mikhail's death wasn't an accident.

I saw something I wasn't supposed to. And now I'm just a loose end that needs tying up.

I lunge for the bedside lamp, but he's faster, so much faster.

In two steps, he's closed the distance. I kick out instinctively, and feel my knee connecting with his groin. A grunt is his only tell, as both of us fall to the floor.

He turns in midair and slams down onto me, driving the air from my lungs.

Stars explode behind my eyes from the impact.

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