Page 44 of Erik's Salvation
Her breath became a rattle in her chest as she took a small step away from the window. Had she locked her back door? Probably not. She rarely did, because she felt so safe out here.
Erik: Is something wrong?
There was a slight shake in her fingers as she typed out a response.
Hannah: Someone’s at my back door, maybe trying to get in, and I don’t think I locked it.
The next sound was even quieter, and she almostdidmiss it this time. But it made every hair on her body stand on end.
It was the sound of her back door opening.
Oh God…
Without thinking, she quietly rushed forward and wrapped her fingers around the knob on her bedroom door. Carefully, she closed the door and locked it.
Erik: Hide. I’m calling the police and I’m five minutes away.
She didn’t respond to tell him they were already inside. There wasn’t time. Her house was small—hell, there was only one freaking bedroom. The locked door was the only thing that would buy her time.
Her gaze darted around the area. She could hide, but there weren’t many places to go, and if he got in here, it wouldn’t take him long to find her. She needed to take the offense.
Quickly, she ran into the bathroom, closed the door, and turned on the shower. Thank God she’d done a walk-in shower. Then she quickly moved into the walk-in closet off the bathroom.
Lowering to her haunches, she opened the bottom dresser drawer and dug under the clothes to pull out her gun. It was something she’d always had for safety but never thought she’d actually have to use. Nico had taught her how to shoot, and she’d never been more grateful than in this moment.
With trembling fingers, she clicked off the safety. Then she waited in the closet, hiding behind the doorframe so the intruder wouldn’t see her.
She heard the rattling of the door handle as the person broke the lock. It didn’t take them nearly long enough. Then the soft thuds of steps sounded in her bedroom.
Her breath caught and her skin bloomed cold with fear. She closed her eyes, begging her breaths to remain silent. For her fear to not seem as loud in the room as it was inside her.
She waited for the small click of the bathroom door opening, paused a few more seconds, then she stepped out to find a man dressed in dark pants and a long-sleeved dark shirt, slowly approaching her shower on the other side of the bathroom, his back to Hannah—and a gun in his hand. He wasn’t wearing a mask, which made her chest tighten further. People only chose not to wear a mask when they didn’t plan for their victims to survive, right?
She forced her hands to remain steady as she aimed her weapon and stepped fully into the bathroom. “I’ve got a Beretta pointed at your head and I know how to shoot.”
The man stilled.
“Lower the gun to the floor, kick it over, then turn,” she said quietly but firmly. “If you make any sudden moves, I shoot.”
There was a moment of pause, and in that moment, she wondered if he was going to follow her instructions or just spin and fire. Then he slowly lowered the gun and turned.
She barely stifled a gasp.
The man had a huge scar running down almost the entire left side of his face. His blue eyes were sharp and screamed dangerous. The fear inside her splintered into a thousand tiny shards.
“What do you want?” she forced out.
“Isn’t that obvious?”
She frowned. “Me? Why?”
“I want—”
A car engine roared outside.
Instinctively, she glanced toward the door. It was only a half second of distraction, but that was all the intruder needed to lunge forward and knock her back.
She cried out as she fell, her head hitting the hard tile of the bathroom floor. The guy lifted her wrists and smashed them to the tiles above her head. The impact, combined with his tight grip, had her crying out again—and the gun slipped from her grasp.
