Play The Part (Player Next Door Book 3)

76 | 7001

Welcome back. Millie's been waiting, I've been waiting, and maybe you have too... 

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Chapter 76: 007

Luke, take me away from here.

Wherever you are, please take me.

Let me disappear from this moment.

Let this be a bad dream.

My eyes squeezed tightly shut for only a second before I opened them again.

I had to stay alert, on guard, because they could find me at any moment. I gripped my candle holder tightly. My only protection.

My heart went out to Charlotte, so much braver than me. I could hear her muffled voice from time to time. They'd bound her and surrounded her.

And I was the coward hiding behind a door.

Was this all my fault? 

I looked over at Oma who was crouched behind the couch. She looked panicked, her bright eyes glistening with sadness, fixed on the hallway like she already knew we were too late.

Her knuckles were pressed tightly against the hardwood floor, clutching the knife like it was the only thing anchoring her to this moment.

We could hear them ravaging the kitchen area and footsteps stomping in the rooms upstairs.

We both looked up at the sound of another bang.

As our eyes lowered, we met each other across the room.

Oma lowered her gaze to the trembling blade in her hands, then looked up and met my eyes. Something passed between us, silent and final.

Sometimes in life, you wonder how everything can change in the flick of a dime.

We were just three girls, soaking up a golden summer afternoon at the lake house. And in less than five minutes, everything good, everything safe, was ripped away.

**

One of them came downstairs, moving with a lazy kind of swagger, a half-empty bag of chips crinkling in his hand.

He crunched loudly as he walked, fingers stained bright orange, smearing grease and dust on everything he touched – the wall, the edge of a cabinet, even the glass window as he leaned in to admire the view.

I breathed in and held my breath. He was just outside the door.

"Wowee, look at that," he whistled at the view, like he was staying here for the weekend.

Then he shoved the door open with his boot and I felt it bang against my body. Thankfully, he didn't notice, and I kept quiet as a mouse.

I held the candle holder furthest away from the door, to stop them from hitting and making a sound.

He walked into the living room, the door wide open, with me now hiding behind it.

As he wandered past the side table, his eyes caught a framed photo sitting next to a vintage wooden bowl with pinecones and a pair of reading glasses folded neatly on a leather-bound journal.

The intruder paused, lips curling into a sneer as he leaned in closer, finger tracing the edge of the frame.

"Aha," he said loudly, voice dripping with mockery, "So this is who you're saying is gonna come after me?"

I closed my eyes, remembering the picture.

It was a picture of Luke, tall and handsome, as he sat in a canoe on the still lake, paddles resting at his side. His sister was sitting opposite him and the photo caught the golden locks of her wet hair. They were happy.