Page 54 of Rambler's Snow Bunny
The lie feels wrong, but I’ll say anything to stay alive right now. Because I know—I can see it in his eyes—that he’s come here to kill me.
“You’re lying.” He spits the words in my face, dragging me by my hair across the kitchen and throwing me against the island.
My hip slams into the edge, and I cry out, doubling over in pain.
“Please, Eddie. Don’t do this.” I shake my head, a sob breaking free.
Something dark and terrible flashes in his eyes. He cocks his head to the side, studying me. “You want me to let you live?”
I nod desperately, unable to speak through my tears.
He licks his lips, his gaze roaming over my body in a way that makes my skin crawl. “Get on your knees and show me how much you want it.”
Oh God. No. No. No.
Slowly, I sink to my knees, my whole body shaking like a leaf. “Eddie, please,” I plead, my voice breaking as I try to reason with him. “We can work this out. I’ll do whatever you want, just?—”
His fist connects with my face before I can finish, the impact knocking me backward onto the floor. Pain explodes behind my left eye, and for a moment, everything goes black.
When my vision clears, Eddie is standing over me, unbuckling his belt, the gun still in his other hand.
“This is what happens to bitches who try to leave me,” he growls. “You’re mine, Savannah. You’ll always be mine.”
He takes a menacing step toward me, then suddenly drops to his knees, a look of surprise crossing his face before he falls flat on his face next to me.
My eyes dart up, landing on my guardian angel.
Cleo.
She’s standing behind Eddie, her chest heaving, eyes wild with rage, a broken lamp clutched in her hands.
“Are you okay?” she asks, dropping the lamp and rushing to my side.
I stare at Eddie’s crumpled form, unable to process what just happened. “Is he dead?”
Cleo’s lip curls in disgust as she nudges Eddie’s motionless body with her stiletto. “I sure fucking hope so. If not, I’ll make sure my husband disappears his ass.”
She grabs me under my arms and pulls, and I stagger to my feet, every part of me hurting. Cleo’s eyes widen as she takes in my face. “Look what the fucker did!” she screeches, then stompsover on her stilettos and jams a pointy heel right into Eddie’s groin. He groans but doesn’t wake up.
“Do you have a gun?” Cleo asks, her eyes hard as steel.
I blink at her, my brain struggling to keep up. “Uh, I don’t know if we do.”
“I’ll kill this motherfucker myself,” she growls, looking around the room.
I grab her arm, suddenly terrified. “No. Please. We need to go before he wakes up.”
Cleo cups my face gently, mindful of my injuries. “Babe. You’re an ol’ lady now. We don’t run.” She looks around the kitchen, her expression determined. “Find something we can tie him up with.”
“What?” She’s out of her mind. Tie him up? No. We need to run far away from here.
“Never mind. I’ll find something.” She waves me off. “Go put some clothes on.”
I look down, suddenly remembering I’m standing here in nothing but my underwear. “Right.”
Stumbling down the hallway to the bedroom, I grab a pair of sweatpants Aaron bought me at the store and pull them on. I add one of his t-shirts, the familiar scent of him offering a small comfort.
When I make it back to the kitchen, I can’t believe what I’m seeing. Eddie is on his belly with his hands and feet tied behind his back. “How did you—” I realize she’s hog-tied him with a long orange extension cord.
