Page 35 of Rune
“No.”
“Girlfriend?”
“No.”
“Friend then.”
“My best friend.”
“I’m sorry.”
“So you admit it. You killed her. You took her from me.”
“I didn’t sa—”
I didn’t get to finish when there was a sudden pop-pop-pop sound somewhere down below.
“What—” I started.
Rune flew off the bed, grabbing me and dragging me down to the floor, then moving his body over mine, pinning me to the ground.
It wasn’t until his weight crushed down on me, his arms moving up to cage around my head, his face pressed close to mine, that I finally realized what the sound was.
Gunshots.
Someone was shooting at the house.
My senses sharpened.
Suddenly, I could hear the glass shattering, the squeal of tires.
I was all sensation then: my pulse thundering in my ear like war drums; my lungs forgot their purpose, tightening, burning; a cold fist of fear slithered around my chest and squeezed.
That was why, surely, a soft whimper escaped me as my face buried in Rune’s neck and my hands lifted, clutching at his t-shirt at the sides of his body.
Time warped, slowed.
Each second felt like days, like a lifetime.
“It’s okay. You’re okay,” Rune said, his voice disarmingly calm.
What about that situation was okay?
How could he be so collected?
What if masked men were about to charge through the house, grab me, and drag me out?
Or, worse yet…
“Sofia,” I yelped.
I was pushing at him then, trying to move him off of me, to get out from under the weight of him, to get to my sister.
“Okay. All right. I’ll go,” Rune said, his chin ducking and his gaze finding mine, holding. “Promise you’ll stay here.” A strange, strangled sound escaped me. “Promise or I’m staying right here.”
“Okay. I promise.”
That was all he needed.
