Page 43 of Trigger's Temptation

I reach for my service weapon, gripping it in my left hand. It’s going to suck if I have to shoot someone, but I did teach myself how to be ambidextrous just in case something like this happens.

The cool metal grounds me, but my nerves remain on high alert.

Nothing appears to be out of place, but the creepy feeling that someone is watching me still makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end.

A soft creak causes me to whip around, gun raised.

I cautiously walk to my bedroom and notice the door is closed. That’s weird because I always leave my bedroom door open, even when I’m sleeping.

A cold sweat beads at my temple. Every instinct screams at me that something isn’t right.

I step forward cautiously, my heartbeat thundering in my chest. The doorknob is cool beneath my fingertips, but as I grip it, pain shoots up my arm from my fractured knuckles. I grit my teeth and push through, twisting the knob.

The hinges groan as the door swings open slowly. I flip on the light and look around. Nothing is out of place, but my gut is telling me something is off.

I scan the room, and nothing is out of place. My bed is untouched, the bathroom is empty, and the closet doors are shut. I crouch, peering under the bed. No movement. No shadow lurking in the dark.

The uneasy feeling remains. Maybe it’s stress. Maybe I’m overthinking. Or maybe I’m not.

I head back to the refrigerator and grab some ice out of the freezer. I wrap it in a towel and sit on my couch. I set my service weapon on the coffee table and turn on the T.V. Once I find something brain-numbing to watch, I sit back and relax, placing the ice on my hand. It stings at first but eventually stops throbbing.

I close my eyes trying to get some sleep, but images of Trigger, Allison, Elise, Rauel, and even the Ol’ Ladies from the Royal Bastards come at me.

Allison's voice echoes in my head, a whisper at first, then a scream.Why haven’t you helped me?

I see her. Not the laughing, carefree girl I once knew. Her body, Zach and I found crumpled in the alleyway, limbs twisted at unnatural angles, blood soaking through torn clothes. Her eyes are empty, accusing, locked onto mine.

Rauel is standing over Allison’s abused and broken body, his dark eyes are accusing me of not keeping my promise.You failed,he mouths into the darkness.

My mouth opens, but no sound comes out. My lungs burn. Ineedto scream. Ineedto speak. But my voice is gone, swallowed by the darkness pressing in around me.

Allison and Rauel are screaming at me for help, and I can’t help them. I can’t stop what’s happening.

Then, when I can’t take it anymore, Trigger appears. His intense gaze, hot and demanding, lingers on my body, making me crave him.

When I reach out to touch him, his face twists. His eyes burn with rage. Rage from leaving him, rage from not getting there on time to prevent his sister from being hurt.

I try to speak, try to tell him I did the best I could, but nothing comes out. My voice is a whisper across a loud ocean.

I take a step forward, but the ground beneath me crumbles. The Ol’ Ladies are behind him now, their expressions unreadable. Allison and Rauel join them, their mouths moving, telling me I’m not doing a good enough job.

The distance between us stretches. I try to run, but my feet won’t move.

No. No. No.

A shrill, inhuman wail fills the space around me. It’s mine. But I never opened my mouth.

The world fractures.

A loud thump jolts me awake.

My body jerks upright, my heart slamming against my ribs like it’s trying to break free. My lungs burn as I drag in a ragged breath, but there’s not enough air in the room. My skin is damp with sweat, the thin fabric of my shirt clinging to me like a second skin.

My fingers tremble as I reach for my gun, but my grip is weak. My right hand throbs from the earlier punch, but the pain barely registers over the lingering terror clawing at my chest.

A shiver rips through me. My muscles ache, locked so tight I can feel the strain in my shoulders, my back, and my jaw.

I press my palm against my sternum, trying to slow my breathing, but my heart is still hammering, the echo of the dream refusing to fade.

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