Page 7 of Guarded from Havoc
The first of the intruders lunges.
Then the second.
The third.
Erik turns into a dervish, his limbs a blur as he defends himself from the onslaught.
I know I should move. Do something. Anything. But my muscles don’t agree.
I’m frozen.
Terrified.
Then a voice in my head shouts,The gun! Get the gun! Bring it out here for him!
Yes. The gun. Get it. Help Erik.
I take one jerky step towards the hallway, then another. And another. Until I’m running, sprinting, my breath coming in painful gasps, heart thundering louder than the storm outside.
Just for a second, I contemplate going for the door instead. Getting outside and hoping I can hide in the woods.
And leave Erik with four men intent on hurting him?
Be out there, alone, with them potentially hunting me?
No.
I can’t.
Decision made in a split second, I keep moving towards the bedroom.
Time slows, each step like I’m moving through quicksand.
Grunts and shouts come from behind me.
A gunshot goes off, and I scream.
Someone slams into me.
Knocks me to the floor.
As I land, all the air rushes out of me.
There’s a body on me, hot and heavy and stinking of sweat.
I try to flip over. Kick. Punch. Bite. All the things I learned in my self-defense class in college but never had to use in real life.
A low chuckle rumbles by my ear. “Cute that you’re trying,” the man says. “But you don’t have a chance.”
Then he cocks his arm back.
His fist looms large in my vision.
Before I can move, his fist snaps out. Crashes into my cheek.
Pain explodes. Everywhere. My cheek. My jaw. My teeth.
My body goes limp.
