Page 86 of Tear Me Down
Stop thinking about it.
Just go right now and tell him.
“Damien?” I call for him as I go to walk out, gripping the door handle and brace myself to pull it open…but something tells me not to. This eerie feeling washes over me, like a presence in the air commanding me to stop. The house is suddenly cold, and even though it’s been quiet all night, this moment feels different. If he were home, he’d be racing up the stairs. I’d be able to hear his feet stomping against the wood and the voices from the men filling him in on the quiet night. Though, there’s nothing. Not a peep.
The mercenaries guarding our home aren’t allowed near the bedrooms unless they deem it an emergency or let me know first by text, and I certainly haven’t received anything. If they were coming up to protect me from something, I would be able to hear them as well.
Another thump booms behind the door and I instinctively take a step back. That one was closer than the first, and is followed by nothing but silence again. It’s not windy out tonight, and the house isn’t old enough to be making odd noises. This isn’t random.
That’s not Damien…
Someone is in our house.
I immediately look around the room to try and find something to defend myself with if necessary, but there’s not much on hand. The pistol Damien had kept in one of the nightstands is downstairs by the back door from when I was practicing, and he has his other gun on him. All of the others are in the garage, and there’s no way I could make it past who’s outside.
Running out of the door and trying to fight back is not an option. Preferably, fighting isn’t an option at all, not with the baby… Hopefully I'm paranoid and itwasthe house settling or one of the guys tripped. Okay, or maybe he tripped twice, but I know deep down that’s not what’s happening. I try to replay Damien’s lessons in my head and live through them again in the moment. He said to do anything to draw their attention away—if they think I'm vulnerable, they’ll bite at the bait. I need a distraction, something that is going to keep an intruder away from me.
I walk into the bathroom and place the test on the counter close to the toothbrush holder, so it’s not too noticeable in case I am just a paranoid mess, and then I turn on the shower. Hoping that whoever is here will think that’s where I am. Stepping back into the bedroom, I immediately look for somewhere to hide that they won’t suspect. The closet is huge, but if they don’t walk all of the way in, I won’t have a chance to slip past them. Under the bed? No, that never works in the movies, that’ll just leave me a sitting duck. I have to find somewhere else. When they search the rest of the house and see I'm not there, they’ll come in here. I can’t risk trying to leave yet.
My gaze rakes across the room until I look over to the small space beside the door, where it stands open. I bet I could fit in the corner, and when someone walks in, they’ll be covering me with it and hopefully walk right past. It’s a long shot that they won’t see me, but hopefully with the shower running, they won’t look.
Acting quickly, I quietly walk behind the door and try to conceal my nervous breathing and stay calm. It’s when I see the doorknob turn that I freeze, waiting for the jump-scare moment where I realize it’s Damien or Ser and I feel like an idiot. It lazily and quietly opens, unveiling three men who walk into the room quieter than a ghost could, and my world tilts. They have rifles raised expertly, and their steps are methodical and practiced, as if they were bred for it.
This is actually happening. People are in our home and are clearly looking for me. I cover my mouth with a shaky hand, desperate to keep any noises at bay. These are not Damien’s men, and the fear of that solidifies the moment I see something poke out from one’s very white skin on his neck. A tattoo of a snake weaving its way through a shattered skull with a gaped mouth. It’s as dark and foreboding as the air around me is. I make a mental note of it, keeping it in mind for safekeeping in the event that I need to identify them.
The thought of what these large men could do to me causes me to shiver and sink into the corner even more. There’s obviously no one left to help me, or the men downstairs would be racing to protect me. Maybe I should surrender and let them take me peacefully? That’s poor thinking, I can’t prove these men are Dranan’s, but it’s the only plausible explanation, and if I know anything, it’s that they’re here to do a job. A painful job.
I watch the one in front of the group signal to the bathroom and they make their way toward the door, still as silent and deadly as when they snuck their way in. The moment their backs are turned enough, I slip out from behind the door and quietly turn to leave, meeting a wall of muscle that doesn’t smell like my fiancé.
A sharp pain lands on my cheek and radiates through my jaw as I fall to the floor. I land hard, thankfully on my side, and take only a moment to collect my swirling vision. A large hand grabs onto my ankle as I scramble, pulling me backward towards my assailant. Screams bubble up in my throat and pour out as I claw at the floor, trying to gain some type of traction, but I can’t help but cry out again as I feel my nails scraping and splitting. The man’s hands continue to pull me, grabbing higher and higher on my body as I slide against the floor.
“DAMIEN!” A shriek leaves my mouth as I thrash against him.
He’ll be here any minute.
He always saves me.
I turn on my back as the man pulls me to him, and I start clawing at his face, aiming for his eyes and throat before I switch to fists. I see his bald head, beady black eyes, and the same skull and snake tattoo on his neck. Is it a coincidence that two of these men have the same tattoo? I don’t think so, and now I know that it’s valuable information. As I'm thrashing, I see our security camera in the top corner…get any information on your assailant as you can...Damien’s voice plays in my head. I can’t make it obvious, or they’ll destroy the camera.
“GET OFF OF ME, YOU FUCKING VIPER!” I scream and kick hard one last time, actually nudging him off of me and pushing him back against the wall. The floor serves as an anchor as I push up and crawl away from him, but towards the other men. Our nightstand startles me as I back against it, and I watch as the men come barreling towards me, thankfully with their weapons at their sides. The adrenaline kicks in fully, and I dive into fight mode, pushing the shakiness away in a desperate attempt for survival.
I reach back towards our nightstand and grab the lamp, not wasting a second before I swing it around at full force. It breaks as it connects with a man’s head, knocking him off balance and causing him to stumble into another one, giving a third man an opening.
As he lunges at me, I instinctively reach down and grab one of the ceramic shards. There’s a moment of hesitation, a split second where the sharp, cold bite of the piece digs into my palm, but then the enemy reaches for my waist, and I act—jamming the shard into his neck and dragging downward. His blood starts to spew, and thankfully I dart out of the way before I’m covered like last time. A blip of victory shocks my chest, and I keep up the momentum—moving urgently to get away.
I sprint for the door, digging my feet into the floor and pushing off with a speed that surprises me. Just as I’m about to reach the door, a harsh, burning pull radiates on my scalp, and I reach back to feel someone’s hand yanking on my hair. I thrash and scream as hard as I can, feeling the sting radiate from my scalp and my feet slip out from under me. I lose my traction, and when I try to get it back, it does nothing but drop my weight, and makes his grip tighten. I’m suddenly jerked to the side, and a light breeze swipes across my face before I’m knocked into our dresser. Just as quickly as the hit came, it fades away with everything else and turns black.
Chapter thirty
Damien
‘A Grave Mistake’ – Ice Nine Kills
A blinding light and steady beeping awaken me, as well as hushed voices that seem to grow louder with every word. It’s difficult to open my eyes with how forcefully they pull themselves down, but I pry them open, needing to see the commotion surrounding me. The ceiling tiles bleed together, and the light stretches out in little beams that slowly come together as the seconds pass.
Memories of the warehouse come flying back in, invading my mind like a storm threatening to evolve. My sinuses still smell the smoke, and it could be that my mouth is dry from whatever drugs or life saving measures the hospital provided, but I swear I can still taste the soot in the back of my throat.
I can’t quite make out the voices yet, but as I strain to look around, I can distinguish three of the figures. Carter, Zeke, and Alex all stand at the end of the hospital bed, looking serious and on high alert. Zeke looks furious. His face is red and his jaw is clenched, and while the other two also look disheveled, they don’t seem quite as unhinged as he does.
