Page 66 of Rune
Another step vanished beneath his foot.
His arm released me as he fought to stop the momentum of his fall.
There was nothing I could do to stop mine or brace myself against it.
My hands were behind my back.
I was going to land on my front.
The best I could hope for was my face not hitting the edge of a step.
It felt like falling in slow motion, yet so quick that my heart hadn’t caught up with the adrenaline by the time I crashed down.
The side of my face hit the flat side of a step, my neck taking the brunt of the edge even as my ribs, hips, and knees hit other steps.
I slid down a few steps before I planted my knees, then threw myself onto my side facing the banister as I awkwardly used my bound legs to kick into the wall. Once, twice, three times. The drywall gave way, my feet disappearing into the wall for a second.
But there was no way Chip didn’t hear that.
“Stupid bitch,” the man snarled, crawling up the steps toward me, the pain twisting his face in a mask of fury.
As soon as he was close enough, his hand shot out, grabbing my zip-tied ankles and dragging me down.
I went down two steps, cheek, chest, and hips whacking against each, until I yanked my legs free and shoved them through one of the gaps in the banister. A spindle broke free and clattered to the floor, but created more space for my legs to slip through far enough to curl my knees around a spindle and hold on.
They were never going to hold, and all it took was the guy grabbing for my aching wrist and yanking me down backward for more spindles to clatter to the floor the movement forced my legs free.
In that position, at least, I could tuck my chin to my chest to avoid my head whacking off the stairs as I was dragged downward.
The adrenaline must have been masking the pain, because I felt next to nothing but the pain in the hand of the wrist he was pulling. Everything else that I knew was hurt was oddly numb, every part of me weirdly focused on my pulse and how it slammed in all the points, how it felt like my heart was about to punch free of my ribcage.
But even as my ass hit the last step, there was a yell from outside, a loud pop, and more yelling, but it was moving further and further away.
I twisted my head just in time to see my front door fly open.
Then there was Chip.
A flashlight held over the muzzle of his gun like I saw cops doing in movies.
The man was forced to release me, reaching toward his waistband.
I didn’t hesitate.
I twisted on the step, throwing my bound legs into the guy’s knee with everything I had.
It felt wrong how much I enjoyed the roar of pain that escaped him as he went down.
It only lasted for a second, though.
Then his hand was searching for his own weapon again.
I screamed against my duct-taped mouth, trying to warn Chip.
There was no need.
There was a bang—louder than the other one had sounded in the small space of my home—and my attacker’s body jerked hard.
I felt something hot and wet splash across my face.
