I got to the front door.
Yes!
I heard the thump of feet behind me, but I didn’t dare look back.
Run!
I scrambled to unlock and turn the knob. As soon as I opened the door, I rushed through and slammed into someone’s chest.
What?
I looked up.
No.
His brother, West stared down at me. He had these big ass headphones covering his ears. Instead of saying anything, he stepped back and began strumming an invisible guitar.
What the fuck?!
I got ready to shove him to the side and race off.
Cain’s huge hands grabbed my shoulders.
No!
Screaming, I struggled to get out of his grip.
And West played that damn invisible guitar, rocking his head back and forth.
“Help me!” I slapped and kicked. “Help!”
Cain yanked me backwards.
“No!” I gripped the edge of the doorway. My muscles burned. It was hard to hold onto the door’s frame. “No!”
West shifted to playing invisible drums.
“Somebody!” I fought against Cain’s grip, not letting him get me completely over the doorway.
Still slamming imaginary drums, West turned around as if to make sure no one was coming.
“Somebody help me!”
West began rocking his hips and beating at the air faster.
“Help!” I lost my grip on the brick and clawed at Cain’s arms.
Cain dragged me into the apartment and let go.
I stumbled back.
He turned and shut the door.
I took that moment to sprint across the living room and knock away the chair by the table.
Go! Go!
I spotted Boss lounging on his back in the corner. His tongue hung out of his mouth. His legs spread out to the side as if he were in pure comforting peace. His stomach gently rose and fell.
Quin is going to be so pissed.
I got to the back door and fumbled with the knob.
When I opened it, Cain’s other brother, Griff was on the ground and holding his phone in front of me.
“Oh, yeah baby!” The noise came from his device. “Rub it. Rub it in.”
He looked up at me. “You need some fresh air or something?”
“Rub it, baby! Oh yeah. So creamy.”
For some odd reason I looked at his phone’s screen. A woman jacked a guy off with several glazed donuts.
My voice screeched. “What the fuck?”
I pulled my eyes away fast and tried to focus on how I could jump over him.
“Uh.” Griff’s eyes widened. “This video just popped up during a search for something else. Don’t judge.”
I got ready to jump over him.
“Hey.” Griff showed me his gun. “Don’t even think about it.”
Shivering, I lowered my voice. “Please. . .save me. I could—”
“No way.” Griff motioned with the gun for me to get back inside. “I’m getting my donuts.”
What the hell does that mean?
Defeated, I edged away, closed the door, and stared at it.
Think.
I was too terrified to turn around.
How do I get away?
I had a small gun in my bedroom closet. It was on the top shelf. There were also big windows in the bedroom. If I could somehow knock Cain out or shoot him, I could slip away. His brothers would probably hear the bullet and rush in. Maybe I could shoot them too.
Get the gun. Figure everything else out later.
My heart boomed in my ears.
Slowly, I turned around.
To my shock, Cain wasn’t there.
Where did he go?
Shaking, I hurried toward the kitchen, jumping at shadows and shrieking at the sound of my own feet on the carpet.
Think. Think. How do I make sure I get to the gun in the closet?
I entered the kitchen and yanked open the drawers. It was just forks, spoons, a tong, and a few spatulas.
Damn it! Did Devin take the lone butter knife I had or was it Quin?
I grabbed a fork and spatula. Then, I shut the drawer.
No. I need more.
I put the fork and spatula in one hand, opened the drawer again, and pulled out the tongs too.
Okay.
I looked in the direction of the hallway. A light glowed in the center. The bathroom door was open.
He’s in there.
The sound of him rummaging through something filled the air.
What the fuck is he doing? I hope I injured his ass and he has to bandage something.
I headed down the hallway, ready to knock him out with silverware, if he jumped out.
Right before I passed the kitchen sink, I spotted the dirty chef’s knife.
Oh shit. I thought Devin grabbed it.
Devin must’ve forgot to take it when he finished cooking and packed everything. I put the tongs in the hands with the fork and spatula. Then I grabbed the chef’s knife with the other hand.
There we go.
I didn’t know how I would get Cain, but I would do something—smack him, fork him, cut him.
Holding my weapons in front of me, I tiptoed down the hallway.
My pulse quickened in terror.
I’ll jump in there and. . .stab his ass in the throat. . .
I took silent steps.
Then, I’ll fork him in the eye and. . .
The sound of something sliding across the floor came from the bathroom.