Page 22 of Beautiful Killer

CHAPTER EIGHT

Two months later

Sunny

I woke with a start and lay there for a few seconds trying to work out why . . .

Someone was coming up the stairs.

Zeke.

He’d come back.

My heart leaped in my chest as I sat up quickly, shoved my hair out of my face, and clicked on the bedside lamp.

The door handle turned . . .

No. This wasn’t right.

I hadn’t seen him in close to two months. He wouldn’t just show up like this. Yes, he’d let himself in once, but he wouldn’t want to scare me, he wouldn’t just . . .

All these thoughts flew through my head as the door opened slowly.

A surge of fear and a good dose of adrenaline pumped through me, firing along my veins, making my limbs weak, and forcing a scream past my lips.

I jerked back in my bed when a man filled the doorway. His eyes glittered down at me in the lamp light, through the balaclava he had on, like some otherworldly demon. My phone was by the bed, but I was frozen with fear, my fingers curled in painful fists in my lap.

He pulled a knife and waved it from side to side. “Do as you’re told, and you won’t get cut. We clear?”

I still couldn’t move.

He took a threatening step toward me. “I said, are we clear?”

A muffled shriek worked its way through my clamped jaw, and somehow I forced myself to nod.

He glanced around my room. “Got any cash?”

I pointed to my purse; the day’s takings from the shop were in it. Please let him be satisfied with that and leave. He grabbed it off my dresser and emptied everything into a red backpack. Fear vibrated through me, making it hard to think. Was he going to hurt me? I couldn’t just sit here and wait for it, I had to do something, I had to try and get away, call for help. He was at my jewelry box, emptying everything into his bag. I looked at my phone. His back was still to me, so I reached for it. I curled my fingers around it, gaze darting back to him. Oh God.

“What the fuck did I say?” he said, then came at me before I could even move, climbing on top of me, backhanding me so hard my ears rang.

“No, please no . . .”

The blade in his other hand was held to my cheek. His eyes seemed to get brighter. “I told you not to move.” He made a tutting sound. “I told you what would happen.”

“No . . . I . . .” A scream tore from me as he slowly drew the knife across my skin. Burning. Stinging pain. It was deep. Oh God.

I felt hot tears sliding down my temples, mixing with the blood and dripping down my face.

He grabbed my head and jolted me. “You have a safe, yes?”

I nodded as best I could with the hold he had on me, and glanced at my bedside table. He was going to kill me. He was going to take my things then plunge that knife into me and kill me. My entire body was shaking so hard as he got down on the floor, opening the cupboard to get to the safe, I thought I might be going into shock.

“Combination,” he barked.

I rattled it off numbly and watched him open it, taking all I had left of my family and shoving it into his backpack. He turned to me and even though I couldn’t see his mouth, I knew he was smiling.

“Wish I had more time with you,” he said, voice lower, deeper.