Chapter 45
CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
She thought she screamed, but she couldn't tell over the rushing of blood in her ears, drowning out everything around her. She saw the kick of the pistol in Fletcher’s hand, felt the recoil as it vibrated through his body and into hers.
Her heart constricted, and horror washed over her as agony ripped across Knox’s face.
He staggered backward, then collapsed against the wall at his back and slid to the ground.
“No!” She fought Fletcher’s hold, hysteria quickly rising and threatening to take over.
Lifting her foot, she dug her heel into the top of his foot as hard as she could.
Her range of motion was limited with her hands bound together in front of her, but she used every ounce of strength she possessed as she drove her elbow into his stomach.
Satisfaction ripped through her when he let out a grunt of pain.
“You bitch!” Fletcher fisted one hand in her hair with a low growl, and tears sprang to her eyes. “I should kill you for that.”
He shoved her roughly away from him, and she fell to her hands and knees on the floor.
“Everleigh, run!”
Knox’s voice met her ears, and she threw a look over her shoulder at him. He’d managed to grab his gun, and his eyes implored her to do as he said.
“Go!”
She flinched as the sound of gunfire filled the air. She wasn't entirely sure what happened next. Fletcher pitched forward just as another series of shots rang out, mingling with the shattering glass of a window exploding somewhere.
Fletcher threw himself out of the line of fire, and she awkwardly scrambled to her feet.
She whirled toward the kitchen, looking for the back door, but Fletcher blocked her way.
Spinning abruptly, she started to take a step toward where he'd fallen by the door, but a set of strong fingers wrapped around her ankle.
Fletcher pulled hard, trying to yank her down with him, and she hit the floor with a thud.
Pain radiated through her body as her kneecap smashed into the hardwood floor, but she managed to get her hands out in front of her in time to keep her face from slamming against the wood. She kicked at Fletcher, finally managing to get free and clamber to her feet.
Fletcher was climbing unsteadily to his feet behind her, the fire of retribution burning in his eyes.
With the only thought in her mind to get away from him, she darted down the hallway that led to the bedrooms. She slammed the door to Knox’s room then threw the lock, glancing around frantically, trying to order her thoughts.
She needed a phone. She needed to call for help, and she needed to stop Fletcher.
The door rattled in its frame as something slammed into it, and she let out a little yelp.
Phone forgotten, she looked around for a weapon.
But there was nothing. The door handle rattled, and the sound of wood on wood intensified as Fletcher pounded on the door, trying to force it open.
She slapped at the lock of the gun cabinet futilely, and a growl of frustration bubbled up her throat.
She needed to get away from Fletcher and get back to Knox.
She glanced at the window across the room.
If she could get to the front of the house, she could get Knox out of there and to safety.
He must have driven there and would surely have his keys on him.
All she cared about at the moment was getting to him and making sure he was okay.
She took one step forward, then froze just as the door behind her exploded.
Whirling around, she sprinted to the window.
She yanked it open and threw one leg over the ledge just as Fletcher came storming into the room.
Her heart slammed against her chest as she hurriedly maneuvered through the narrow space.
She was almost clear of the window when one huge hand wrapped around her ankle still draped over the sill.
Fletcher scowled at her through the dusty pane of glass, dark and fierce, and she used all of her weight to throw herself backward.
His hand slipped free, and she hit the ground with a jarring thud, her breath suspending in her lungs.
She blinked dazedly and dragged in a breath.
Above her, Fletcher was already halfway out the window, and she threw her body into motion, rolling clumsily to her feet.
The grass was slick, and the torrent of rain saturated her hair and obscured her vision.
She screamed and skidded along the damp ground, trying to regain her balance as she fell into the mud.
Suddenly Fletcher was there, one hand fisted in the material of her shirt.
He yanked hard, throwing her to her back and caging her in his arms. A mixture of fury and fear welled up, and she drove her knee upward as hard as she could, aiming for whatever soft spot she could find.
A harsh cry filled the air, and Fletcher lifted off her, clutching his groin.
His face creased with anger, and she knew it wouldn’t stop him for long.
Bringing her legs up, she drove her heels into his chest as hard as she could, knocking him off balance. Fletcher slipped and tumbled to his back, and she broke free. She raced toward the back door, not feeling the cold of the rain or anything else beyond the fear driving her to keep moving.
By the back of the house, she lunged for the door that led into the kitchen. Her fingers slid around the doorknob, and her heart fell when she realized it was locked.
She dropped to her knees, breath coming in heaving pants. Her gaze slid over the pile of wood stacked there, and something glinted in the light.
“Evie.” Fletcher’s taunting voice floated toward her, sending a chill down her spine. “I know you’re here.”
She stared at the ax propped against the woodpile, her pulse skittering wildly.
She knew he wouldn’t stop. He’d tried to kill her father, and no matter what he said, there was nothing stopping him from doing the same to her.
Her hand trembled as she wrapped her fingers around the wooden handle and pulled it toward her.
The wood was slick beneath her fingers from the rain, and she adjusted her grip, shifting into a crouch as his squelching footsteps neared.
It seemed like time had slowed to a crawl, the rain a mere buzz in her ears as Fletcher rounded the corner.
She knew she had a split second to make a choice.
Him or her. A demented grin spread over his face when he saw her cowered there by the woodpile.
An unholy look entered his eyes, and she knew her time was up.
She sprang from her position just as he rushed her, swinging the ax as hard as she could.
Everything slowed as the blade sank into his torso, and blood immediately radiated across his chest. His eyes widened with surprise, dropping to the handle protruding from his chest before meeting her gaze again.
He took a step forward, reaching for her, and she cried out as he slipped on the slick stairs.
A scream stuck in her throat as all of his weight crashed down on her, pinning her to the deck.
She kicked and pushed at him until she was finally free, then levered to her feet, hair plastered to her face, blood saturating her clothing.
“Everleigh!”
Adrenaline pumping hard through her system, she spun toward the voice, already searching for a way to fend the person off.
“Everleigh, it’s me!”
She blinked in confusion as Mason’s features came into focus. “Wh—” She shook her head. How had Mason gotten there? And where was Knox?
Oh, God. Her eyes widened as she staggered forward. “Knox!”
“He’s okay.” Mason grasped her upper arms and ran a critical eye over her. “Are you hurt?”
She shook her head. “N-no.”
He threw a look at Fletcher where he was sprawled over the deck, blood pooling around his body and dissipating under the driving rain. She shuddered at the sight, and Mason wrapped an arm around her waist. “Come on.”
He urged her away from the grisly sight, leading her around the front of the house just as sirens pierced the air.
The moment they rounded the front of the house, she saw Knox propped up outside on the front porch.
She broke free from Mason and ran toward him, skidding to a stop on her knees next to him.
“Knox!” She grabbed at him, frantic in her need to make sure he was okay. “Is everything—?”
“I’m fine.” His grimace told her it was a lie, but she didn’t have time to dispute it as he hauled her against him.
Rain continued to pour down around them, saturating their clothes and skin, and she snuggled closer. Knox tipped his head down to her, his arms wrapped tightly around her. “Fletcher?”
She lifted her chin and met his gaze, then gave a brief shake of her head. She didn’t want to talk about him right now. He was gone, and that was all that mattered.
Knox studied her for a second before pulling her close and tucking her head to his chest. “It’s okay. It’s finally over.”