Chapter 10 #2
Once inside, I kick off my heels and head straight for the kitchen.
A glass of wine sounds perfect right about now.
I hum softly as I open the wine cabinet, my mind already drifting to thoughts of the evening with Miles.
I can picture him standing in my kitchen, the smell of something delicious filling the air, his smile making my pulse quicken.
I reach for a bottle of red, but as I turn to grab a glass, a shadow moves at the edge of my vision. Before I can process what’s happening, cold steel presses against my head, and my heart stops.
A gun.
My breath hitches, fear slamming into me like a tidal wave as I freeze in place.
I drop the wine bottle spilling red wine everywhere.
My fingers grip the counter so hard they ache, my pulse pounding in my ears.
The world around me blurs, my mind screaming at me to do something, anything, but I can’t move.
I can’t think.
All I can focus on is the gun pressed to my head.
“Don’t move,” a low voice growls from behind me.
My heart races faster, panic clawing at my throat.
I don’t recognize the voice, but it’s dripping with malice, and the way he speaks sends chills down my spine.
My mind scrambles, trying to make sense of the situation, trying to remember the self-defense tips I’d heard a million times but never thought I’d need.
“I—I won’t,” I stammer, my voice barely above a whisper.
“Good girl,” the voice sneers.
I swallow hard, my body trembling with fear as I try to figure out what to do. My phone is in my purse, but it’s across the kitchen. There’s no way I can reach it without making things worse.
“Turn around,” the voice commands.
I turn slowly, my heart racing as I come face-to-face with a man I recognize.
Judge Stanley.
He’s tall, muscular, with a cruel sneer etched on his face. His dark eyes gleam with twisted satisfaction as he sees the recognition cross my face, his grip on the gun steady.
“What do you want?” I manage to ask, my voice shaky but strong enough to surprise even me.
“To do to you what you’ve done to me—ruin you,” he says, his eyes narrowing.
“How have I ruined you?” I ask, trying to keep my voice steady, trying to buy myself time to think.
The man steps closer, his sneer widening. “What I wanted was for you to mind your own damn business, but you Murphys just can’t do that, can you?”
Before I can react, his hand lashes out, grabbing my wrist and yanking me forward. I stumble, my breath catching in my throat as he slams me against the kitchen counter, the gun now pressed to my forehead.
“You think you can just ruin people’s lives and walk away?
” he hisses, his breath hot against my face.
“You file ethics complaints against that dumbass Frank and now he’s singing like a canary to the cops, dragging me down with him.
” His lips are against my ear. “You think you’re untouchable, Emma?
Your brothers are nothing, your father was nothing, and you’re nothing. ”
The fear spikes deep in my gut, but something else ignites within me—anger. I can feel it building, pushing through the terror. The Murphy’s aren’t nothing and I’ve worked too hard to be reduced to this moment, to be a victim in my own home.
I glance around the kitchen, looking for anything I can use, but his grip on my wrist tightens painfully, and I wince.
“What are you looking for? Nothing can save you now.” he growls.
And then, as if by some miracle, the front door creaks open.
“Emma?” It’s Miles’s voice.
The man’s eyes widen in surprise, and I use the distraction to jerk my knee up, aiming for his groin. It’s a sloppy hit, but it’s enough. He grunts in pain, his grip loosening just enough for me to break free. I bolt for the living room, my heart pounding as I scream for Miles.
“Miles! Gun! He has a gun!”
Miles bursts through the house, his eyes locking onto the man in the kitchen. Without missing a beat, he charges forward, tackling him to the ground. The gun skitters across the floor, spinning out of reach as they struggle.
I watch, frozen in place, as Miles overpowers him, pinning him to the floor with a ferocity I’ve never seen before. His face is a mask of determination, his muscles flexing as he holds him down, breathing hard.
“Emma, call the police and pick up the gun!” Miles shouts, his voice commanding and steady.
I snap out of my daze, rushing to grab my phone from my purse. My fingers tremble as I dial 911, my breath coming in shallow gasps as I relay the situation to the operator.
Within minutes, the police arrive, and the judge is dragged out in handcuffs, still sneering at me as he’s shoved into the back of a squad car. I watch from the front porch, my hands still shaking, the adrenaline coursing through my veins like fire.
When it’s all over, Miles turns to me, his eyes filled with worry. He steps closer, pulling me into his arms without a word. I collapse against him, the weight of everything crashing down on me all at once. I bury my face in his chest, my body trembling as I cling to him.
“You’re safe now,” he whispers, his voice soft and soothing. “I’ve got you.”
I nod, my throat tight with emotion. I don’t know what I would have done if Miles hadn’t shown up when he did. The fear, the helplessness—it was overwhelming. But now, wrapped in his arms, I feel a sense of safety, a sense of strength that I never thought I’d find in the middle of all this chaos.
“Thank you for being there. You saved me. Again.”
He holds me tighter, his lips brushing against my forehead. “I’ll always protect you, Emma. Always.”
And as I stand there in his arms, the weight of what just happened pressing down on me, I know one thing for sure: I’m not alone anymore.