Kill Switch by Penelope Douglas

Shit. I lunged, swinging open the back door. “Mikhail!”
Rain pattered the terrace and awnings, and I couldn’t hear
him. He would come in if it was raining, and it he didn’t, he’d
be huddled right outside this door. No jingling leash telling me
he was running for me or whining to get out of the water.
Where did he go?
Two footfalls hit the floor above me, and I stopped
breathing.
Damn you. The fear of that night seven years ago when he
first messed with me came flooding back, only this time, I
doubted my dancing could get me out of this.
I slipped my hand in my pocket, finding the house keys
already there, and fitting two between my fingers as a weapon.
I closed the door, hearing my phone ding, probably with the
notification that my ride was here. I gripped the leash in one
hand, the keys in the other, and backed up a step.
The floor whined to my right as someone stepped, and I
tried to inhale but couldn’t. Then something clicked from
somewhere in the house, a door softly closing.
Weight settled on one of the stairs, and I heard the rings on
a curtain slide along a rod. Closing.
More movement in the attic, and in my head, I’d already
run.
Go. I forced every ounce of energy to pool in my legs as I
gripped my weapons, spun around, and bolted out of the
kitchen, taking the straight shot all the way to the front door.
I grabbed the handle, whipped it open, and flew outside
into the rain and cool morning air. I slammed right into a car
and fumbled with the door handle, finally opening it.
“Jesse?” I said the driver’s name I got from the app.
“Yeah, you okay?”
I scurried inside, barely registering the cackling I heard
coming from inside my house since I’d left the door open.
Asshole.