Page 129 of Ride or Die

The bedroom where Tommy and Billie were sleeping is empty. My pulse spikes. A faint amber glow leaks out through the crack in the curtains of my bedroom window and I stop still beneath the sill. For a second, I can’t even force myself to look, terrified, frozen by what it is I might find. My chest burns from my lungs refusing to draw a full breath. But then, slowly, I rise just enough to peer through the narrow gap where the drapes don’t quite meet.

Everything inside of me goes still.

Clara.

Her legs are stretched out across the mattress, motionless. My heart slams once then seems to forget how to beat. There’s blood. Not a lot. Just a spray, staining the sheets beside her. But it’s enough. Enough to send a wave of nausea crashing through me. Enough to make my knees threaten to buckle.

“Chrissake…” I breathe.

I can’t see the rest of her. Can’t see her face. Can’t see her chest. Can’t tell if she’s breathing. The gap is too small.The curtains pulled too tight. Then suddenly, that tiny sliver of missing information feels like the difference between life and death. Denim-clad legs. He’s there. And he’s on fuckin’ top of her.

For one horrible second, my mind offers an image I can’t stand, and my head falls back against the siding, the rough wood biting into my skull. Clara cold. Clara gone. Tommy and Billie left behind without their mama, just like me.

I squeeze my eyes shut and force the thoughts away before they can take hold. She’s alive. She has to be.

I take a moment to consider myself, to think, smacking the heel of my palm against my forehead as I do.Think, goddammit.

I can get into the house, no problem, but if I go in there, I don’t know what I’m going to face. Sure, I have a loaded weapon, and I’m a good fuckin’ shot, but it’s Clara I’m worried about. He’s closer. What if he… what if she’s already… I shake my head, forcing those thoughts away. And then, as my mind flashes back to Tommy and Billie waiting in my truck, probably scared to fuckin’ death at the thought of never seeing their mama again, and I take a deep breath, knowing exactly what I have to do.

CHAPTER 50

CLARA

The world drifts in and out, all around me.

I think I hear voices, but they’re muddy and far away.

Darkness. Pain. A relentless pounding behind my eyes. I try to move, but my body feels heavy, disconnected, like I’m trapped beneath a frozen lake. Every thought slips through my fingers before I can grab hold of it.

I fight my way toward consciousness, clawing through the thick fog clouding my mind. Something is wrong. Terribly wrong. The air smells stale. Sweat. Smoke. Something metallic. Fear coils in my stomach and my eyes snap open. I scream, but it dies in my throat.

For a moment, I think I’m hallucinating when I see Cain sitting on top of me. His weight pins my hips to the mattress and his face hovers inches over mine. Sweat-beaded, pale, hollow. Wrong. His pupils are huge, nearly swallowing the icy gray of his eyes. Sweat glistens across his bare chest, his jaw twitching, grinding from side to side. And in his hand is a knife, the blade catching the dim light of the lamp on the nightstand. My entire body goes rigid.

“No…” The word barely escapes me.

A slow, wicked grin spreads across his face. “There she is.”

My heart slams against my ribs. I squeeze my eyes shut tight. I have to be dreaming. This has to be another nightmare.Wake me, Cole. Please.

When I open my eyes, he’s still there, and a sob bubbles up the back of my throat.

“You really thought I’d let you go?” he asks.

The knife drifts lazily through the air before landing at my chest and I suck in a tremoring breath as he drags the blade down my skin hard enough to make me wince, hard enough to draw blood, down, between my breasts, further down. My stomach drops when I realize I’m naked from the waist up, my dress torn open, revealing my upper body.

Cain’s movements are erratic. Unpredictable. His eyes can’t seem to focus, and I know he’s high, strung out on something. And somehow, that terrifies me even more. Because sober Cain is cruel enough. High Cain is chaos.

“You took my daughter.” His voice is soft. Dangerously, menacingly soft.

“She’smydaughter,” I whisper, my voice trembling.

His smile widens and I hate that he hears my fear. “Not if you’re dead.”

The knife suddenly plunges into the mattress right beside my head and I flinch so hard my entire body jerks. A sob escapes before I can stop it and Cain laughs. A high-pitched sound that makes my blood run cold.

“You’re always cryin’.”

My pulse pounds so hard I can barely hear his taunting words, and I try so hard to think.