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On the tenth kick, the door crashes in.
Inside, the apartment is mostly dark, save for a small beam of light pointing at the wall in the far corner of the room. The blind on the window is crooked and bent, and it bumps unevenly against the window frame as the wind buffets it.
As my gaze sweeps across the room, it catches on a spray of broken glass, faintly reflecting the light creeping in through the broken blind.
Fear clutches at me.
This is very wrong.
I flick open my switchblade. My other hand plunges into my pocket to grab my phone.
I take another step inside the apartment, and that’s when I see her.
Half-hidden behind the couch, Ruby lies sprawled on the floor. Her hands are clutching her throat, and her chest rises and falls quickly as she gasps for breath.
“Ruby!” All thoughts of clearing the room—of searching for an intruder still inside—dissolve as I race across the room towards her. “Ruby!”
Crashing to my knees beside her, my gaze flicks across her body, searching for injuries. But it’s too dark to see clearly, so I have to turn on my phone’s flashlight to get a better look.
Ruby flinches against the bright light, and I say, “I’m sorry. I need to look at you. See where you’re—”
But the bruises on her face steal the rest of my words.
Finger-shaped bruises on her cheeks and jaw, like her face was roughly grabbed. There’s another rising bruise on her forehead, and blood trickles from a small cut that splits her right eyebrow.
As Ruby stares at me, the panic in her eyes shifts to cautious hope. “Micah?” she whispers. Her voice is weak. Raspy. Her hands flutter down from her throat. “What…”
“It’s okay,” I start. But as I get my first look at the violent marks on her neck, I feel anything but.
#giacobie #friendstoloversromance @theauthor.agency
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