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128|Any Last Words—Part 2

It wasn't some sick twisted joke. And this man wasn't a delivery guy hired by some bozo at the office to scare the daylights out of her.

No. This was her execution, and Ghostface, her executioner.

The moment the penny dropped, the white box and the black rose scattered to the floor, and Camille put up her hands to ward off the attack as the man raised his gun and fired straight at her. The force of the bullet splitting her skin and shattering the bone in her arm sent her crashing to the floor.

A maddening scream, as clangorous as her erratic pulse echoing in her ears, pierced the silence of her foyer. And it took her a little while to process that the sound, like a wounded animal trying to outrun its death, came from her or that the blood rapidly pooling around her as she crawled on her ass, dragging herself to the living room, oozed from the gaping hole in her arm.

She wasn't even aware of the pain. All she could zone in on was her body's crippling flight or fight response to the hor
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Comments (1)
goodnovel comment avatar
Amanda R
Wow. A lot here. So many names though I am a little confused.
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