Page 52 of Savagely Scarred

We never received any alerts that any of the doors or window alarms went off. And only Ava, Enzo, and Dorian know the code besides us. Enzo can turn off the system, but Kyle isn’t that smart.

A shrill beeping pierces the silence.

Fuck. The backup battery…

Turning on my phone’s flashlight, I run back into the kitchen to the door that leads to the small room under the stairs and pound in the code on the keypad to unlock it. Sadie sits at the threshold to stand guard.

Inside, there’s a small desk with a chair. This space is really cramped, and I have to duck slightly to get to the back wall properly. I set my gun down onto the desktop.

Four monitors are mounted on the wall above it to save space. My reflection is currently looking back at me from the black screens. Waving the flashlight around, I locate the black rectangular box sitting under the desk and click the power switch on.

There’s a beep, followed by a flicker of light when the monitors turn back on. Another beep sounds from the hall, indicating that the security system is back online.

Thank God for Enzo. We really should get a generator, because this won’t turn the power back on for the rest of the house. But at least it keeps the safety net up and running.

My gaze bounces across the collage of camera feeds. It stops in the bedroom, where I can see Peaches’ tail sticking out from under the bed. It’s her usual hiding place when it storms.

Lightning cracks again, illuminating everything. My eyes snap to the camera feed out front. A shadow looms over the driveway, the owner off screen.

Panic surges through me. I swap my phone for my gun and exit the room. I tiptoe forward through the darkness, rain pelting the windows. Another flash has me choking on a silent scream when I catch a glimpse of a figure at the front door before we are plunged back into the dark.

A low warning growl comes from Sadie, pressed up against my leg. Her black fur makes it impossible to see her. But I know she has her teeth bared and the fur on her back is standing up.

“Hier,” I whisper to her and retreat to the panic room, walking backwards as fast as I can.

Once inside, I slam my palm against the red button on the wall next to the door. The bulletproof door slams shut and the twelve steel locking bolts slide into place.

I scramble backwards and hit my head on the ceiling. Rubbing the sore spot, I sit down on the floor against the back wall. My thumb slides towards me, disengaging the safety on the gun.

Sadie sits next to me, panting, but never taking her eyes off the door. We’ve only done this drill with her a few times, but she’s in position to attack if that door opens.

Even though the room is soundproof, I purse my lips and try to slow my breathing down. My heart throws itself against my ribcage repeatedly, threatening to break free.

Seconds feel like minutes. Minutes like hours.

I feel like I’m drowning. I’m spiraling right back to where I didn’t want to go—my descent to hell.

I have no fear whatsoever while on the dangerous missions my job entails. But bring in my ex-husband and I crumble like a dried-out sandcastle.

I’m staring at the door, but my eyes are unfocused. Sadie whines next to me, shifting on her front paws. I glance at her briefly before I hear a beeping sound.

The keypad.

My attention snaps back to the door. I raise my gun in the air, ready to pull the trigger. Surprisingly, my arm is steady and not trembling. Even though my insides feel like they want to riot and leave the comfort of their home.

The door clicks as it unlocks fully. Sadie tenses next to me, ready to pounce. The door opens slowly, and I gradually put pressure on the trigger.

“Jesus fucking Christ!”

Sage stands in the doorway with wide eyes and hands raised in surrender. Sadie goes to him wagging her tail and sniffs his pants. My finger slides off the trigger, but I don’t lower the gun.

“Liv,” he says quietly.

He slowly takes a step inside and squats down in front of me. My arm moves automatically, the gun still targeted on his heart. That spot is my only focus. The entry point that ends it all.

No more suffering.

Carefully reaching out, he folds his fingers around the top of the barrel.