Page 67 of An Improper Deal (Elliot & Annabelle 1)
Pop pop pop.
I jump at the deafening cracks. My heart pounds. They sound like gunshots, but—
Nonny’s hands clutch me. “Anna!”
“Shh…” I soothe her and take a quick peek at the front yard. My blood turns to ice. Dad’s on the lawn, something red pooling around him.
There’s a shriek, then the door bangs open and Mom rushes out. The gun swings toward her.
No!
I grab Nonny and cover her ears with my hands as though that can block out the horrible sound.
Pop pop pop!
My entire body shakes, and I hug Nonny tightly and get on my knees. My instincts are split—call for help, or keep Nonny safe? What if we’re next? Oh my god!
Another bang reverberates the air. My shoulders snap up around my ears. I clench my teeth to contain a scream. Nonny opens her mouth, and I shove a palm over it.
No, no, no! Please…!
I breathe roughly. The air is too thick, and it smells metallic and ugly. I can’t hear anything over the thumping of my heart.
No, no! Don’t hurt my sister! Leave us alone!
Suddenly my wrists are bound, and I can’t move. Nonny’s gone. To where, I don’t know.
“No!” I scream. “Please! Not my sister!”
But I’m too weak. No matter how hard I look, I can’t find her—it’s too dark.
They asked for it, murmurs rise around me. Got what they deserved.
A crippling pain guts me. Grief and sorrow crescendo, and I drown in a sea of anguish.
* * *
Elliot
“Wake up,” I say, keeping my voice calm but firm.
My wife struggles, her hands clenched into fists. Tears start to flow freely down her cheeks. Her chest shudders, and my hair stands at the sound she makes, one of the keenest sorrow like something infinitely precious has been ripped from her.
“Hey, wake up,” I say again. “You’re okay, beautiful. You’re safe.”
My internal clock tells me it’s after three. I fell asleep, wrapped around her, only to be jerked out of slumber when she started thrashing.
“No!”
Jesus. I turn on the bedside lamp. “Hey.” I jostle her gently. “Wake up!”
“Please! Not my sister!”
Terror contorts her face until it’s a mask of abject horror. Her hair sticks to her sweaty skin. Okay, enough. I shake her a little harder.
Her eyes open, but they look right through me. Tremors run through my wife’s body, and I grip her hard, trying to anchor her in reality.
“I got you, beautiful,” I say. “I got you.”
