Her bedroom was at the end of a long corridor. She slid out of the door, closed and locked it. There had always been a lock on the outside of her bedroom for as long as she could remember, even if her father had never used it.
Come on, you’ve got this.
The house was dark but she knew this place even in her sleep. She knew when something was out of place, just like the dark figure who had yet to spot her.
Fuck.
The moment she fired, they would know.
This was the moment. She aimed and as he hadn’t seen her, she cut him straight in the head.
Now, she had to rush. He had an automatic weapon and not for the first time, she thanked her father for all the training.
She grabbed the knife wrap from his ankle, secured it to her own, and took his gun, holding it around her neck. Her father had given her the two guns that were in her hands, and she wasn’t going to part with them easily.
Down the stairs, shots were fired at her, and toward the bottom, she had no choice but to fling herself over the railing, landing a little badly on her ankles as she rolled toward the study. She fired at two more guards as they went down.
“Bad move, Is. Bad freaking move.” Grabbing her phone, she found cover. Lighting up the screen, she found Randy’s name to dial, only she’d taken the eye off the ball as it connected. One of her attackers had come up, grabbed her around the neck, and hauled her across the sofa.
“Fat bitch,” the man said.
She was all curves as well as muscle.
Slamming her elbow out at his knee, she waited for him to scream. He didn’t. She growled and did it again, then again until he let her go.
She’d dropped her guns, but she reached for the knife, lifting it and piercing his eye.
The distraction was enough as two more men appeared. She fired the automatic, injuring one, but another was there. As someone grabbed the gun from her, she was pulled and yanked, screaming and crying out. She didn’t know how it happened, but she was suddenly put in a chokehold. Spots appeared in front of her eyes, and she couldn’t breathe.
This was bad.
Her father’s words echoed through her mind.
“It is very dangerous to lose your guard. Anything can happen, and when it does, it can mean the difference between life and death. You’re a woman, sweetheart. It means they expect you to panic. To scare you. They may even attempt to rape you, but with this, you need to keep your head. To give them something to be surprised about. In this fight, you never, ever play by the rules. You fight dirty.”
She slammed her hand back, grabbed the man’s dick, and kept on squeezing. She twisted left and right, almost as if she was using his dick as a doorknob. Over and over, she kept on doing it, waiting, desperate, and the man let go. The knife was in reach. Quickly spinning, she slammed the blade into his dick before pulling it out and slashing him across the throat.
Blood spilled out and she didn’t move fast enough as he collapsed over her. More blood covered her clothes. She quickly slid out from beneath him and grabbed his gun.
Just as she was about to start firing, the lights came on, and her guards, what was left of them, came rushing in. Most of them were covered in blood.
Her ankles hurt as well as her neck.
“They’re dead, Miss,” the man said.
She couldn’t remember his name. The moment she got over her near-death experience, she’d thank him and recall every minute detail about him.
Nodding her head, she struggled to breathe and moved to the phone. Randy was still on the line.
“We’re okay,” she said. Her voice was croaky.
“What the fuck, Bella,” he said.
“We were attacked, but it’s safe now.”
“Bella, be careful.”
“Why?”
“The Family are on their way. Damon’s on his way.”
“Okay, fine.”
“Yeah, but I got the call a second before you called.”
This made her freeze as she looked at the masked men. Going to one, she pulled off the masks. “I don’t recognize them.”
“You won’t, but when they arrive, if I’m not there, you stick to Damon. Don’t trust anyone else.”
“Got it.” If the Family had called Randy before she had, it meant they were already aware of the attack, and the only way to be aware of something was to know about it first.
The Family had sent these men to kill her. She glanced down at her pajamas covered in blood and the state of her face and body. There would be bruises. One of the men had gotten in a punch or two. She was going to feel this in the morning.
She’d find out who did this, and then she’d take great pleasure in killing every single fucking one of them.