Page 15 of Glamour and Grit

“No!” I cry.

Terror seizes hold of me. In my mind, he can only be running to the bedroom to take Selene hostage, or to kill her in a mad suicide mission.

Instead, he rushes right past her bedroom door and into the kitchen. I realize he’s trying to run away. My foot hits a patch of his slick blood and I stumble, almost toppling over.

It’s just enough of a delay to give him a big lead. I rush out the door just in time to see him vanish around the end of the block.

I start to follow, but what if that’s what they want? What if this guy was just bait, to lure me away and leave Selene defenseless? I can’t say it’s a bad plan, though I’m sure they didn't expect he would get shot.

I go back inside instead, closing and locking the door behind me.

“Selene,” I say. “You can come out now.”

I give her a hand out from under the bed. She trembles like a leaf in a strong wind.

“Where did he go? I heard a gunshot.”

“I winged him, but he got away from me. I don’t think he’ll be back, but this place isn't safe for you. We need to get out, now.”

“What are you saying?”

“I’m saying you have ten minutes to pack an overnight bag. I’m sorry, Selene, but you’re in more danger than we thought.”

5

SELENE

Everything is happening so fast, I can’t keep up. Between the camera Dane found and the masked intruder, my home has been thoroughly violated.

But the prospect of leaving it still makes me hesitate. Dane looks up from his phone and glares.

“Why are you still standing there? Start packing! C’mon, move it, move it, move it.”

I put my hands on my hips and glare right back.

“Excuse me? This isn’t boot camp, and you’re not my drill sergeant!”

Dane’s face twists into a frustrated grimace.

“We don’t have time for me to be pleasant, just pack up some of your shit and let’s go. That guy could be on his way back, with friends. We can’t stay here.”

“Just pack up my shit?”

He groans and rolls his eyes.

“I didn’t mean it like that. We don’t have time for this.”

He pushes past me and throws open my closet.

“What the Hell are you doing?” I demand.

He ignores me, grabbing a wheeled suitcase and tossing it onto the bed. He yanks the zipper apart and then drags open my chest of drawers. In horror, I watch as he grabs handfuls of my clothes andwadsthem into the suitcase.

“Knock it off!”

I grab a silk cami before he can destroy it.

“You can’t just crumple everything in there because you’re mad and impatient.”

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