Page 147 of Valor

“Okay.” She smiles softly. “Call if you need me.”

“I will. Love you.”

“I love you too, honey. So very much.” She gives me one last hug before heading out. Every part of me aches right now. My head from crying, my heart from breaking—will this ever end?

I pull out my phone and open the text conversation between me and Gibson. With so much going on, we haven’t even had the chance to discuss what started between us. And even thinking that brings a fresh wave of guilt.

I’m over here reminiscing over a date I had a few weeks ago while Taylor Yates is grieving the loss of his wife.

Me: I hope you’re doing okay.

After hitting send, I toss my phone onto the couch then plop down beside it and run both hands over my eyes. If I could just remember something. Anything that would help Gibson piece something together.

My phone buzzes, but a knock at the door has me setting the phone aside before reading and pushing to my feet. I’ve no sooner pulled open the door than I realize my instant mistake. I didn’t check to see who it was first.

“Help!” I scream as loud as I can.

I try to slam the door, but a military-style boot blocks me. Turning, I race toward the kitchen. A knife. I need a knife. I sprint, moving as fast as I can. But a body slams into me from behind, and I hit the floor with such force it knocks the wind from my lungs.

Not. Again.

I throw my elbow back, and my attacker grunts. Thrashing against the hold, I manage to get my legs free, but not before pain shoots up from my thigh.

I don’t stop fighting though. I can’t stop fighting.

This ismyparents’ home. My home. A place I know better than anywhere else.

But before I can get my leg completely free, it begins to go numb. “Help!” I scream again. “Help!”

My entire body goes limp within seconds.

A gloved hand grips my shoulder, and I’m rolled over. “You’ve been a bad girl,” the distorted voice says as the masked attacker drags me back toward the door. Hands grip the front of my shirt as my abductor crouches and pulls me forward, tossing me over their shoulders.

“We’re going to do this the right way this time,” the abductor says as they make their way down the porch steps and toward the open trunk of a car. My gaze lands on a security camera outside the house.

Tucker.Isn’t he on monitor duty? Won’t he be here?—

Tires crunch in the gravel.

Yes!

A truck slides to a stop. “Let her go now!”

Dad.

Without hesitation, my abductor raises their arm and fires two shots.

Bang. Bang.

Tears burn in my eyes, and grief sears my throat as the attacker turns, giving me the full view of my dad stumbling back against his truck, blood staining the front of his shirt. He pushes off of it and tries to get into the driver’s seat, likely to retrieve the rifle he keeps there.

I want to scream.

To fight.

To beg him to stay down so he stands a chance at surviving.

But I’m helpless to do any of it as I’m tossed into the trunk. It’s slammed closed, and within seconds, I’m rolled as the car speeds forward, leaving the strongest man I’ve ever known bleeding to death in the dirt.

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