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Edge of Valor: A Post-Apocalyptic EMP Survival Thriller(50)

Author:Kyla Stone

It was bitterly cold. The frigid air sliced through her flannel pajamas. She inhaled a sharp breath, expelling white clouds, and stumbled after Ghost.

This is crazy, that rational voice whispered in her mind. You’re going to wake up Evelyn, Travis, and the babies, ranting like an insane woman.

But there was Ghost, alert and agitated. And her intuition like a jangling alarm inside her head.

She’d ignored that alarm the night Gavin Pike stopped on the side of the road. The night she’d been stolen from her own life.

She wouldn’t ignore it again.

Hannah reached the Brooks’ front door and paused. Ghost raced around the corner of the house. Once again, she followed his lead.

In the distance, thunder rumbled. Electricity crackled in the frigid air.

She strained her ears for any sound. The squelch of wet, matted grass beneath her boots. The scent of wet earth filled her nostrils. It smelled like rain.

And something else. The whiff of cigarette smoke.

Dread scrabbled up her spine. Hannah hurried to the rear patio and felt her way between the patio furniture. Her boots crunched broken glass.

The slider door was half-open.

Evelyn and Travis were too careful to leave a door unlocked, let alone open.

Someone had broken in. Someone was inside the house.

For an instant, she froze, bracing against a shot of liquid fear. Her scalp tingled. That old familiar darkness descended, stealing her thoughts, blackening her mind, taking her away.

She did not give in to it. She fought against the nothingness with every ounce of her strength. What had once protected her from the worst horrors imaginable now threatened everything she held dear.

Hannah breathed in, breathed out. Cold air stung her cheeks. The heft of the .45 in her hands. Her dog pressed against her thigh, whining, scratching at the door to get in.

Her baby in grave danger. Evelyn and Travis, too.

With tremendous effort, she came back to herself.

Hannah forced the broken slider open.

Ghost leapt through the slider. With a great booming bark that shook the night, he surged inside.

Heart in her throat, Hannah ran after him.

Through the darkened living room. Bumped into the sofa, knocking over an end table. Nearly tripped, but she stumbled to her feet and raced toward the pitch-black hallway.

No thought for stealth. Only speed. Sheer panic drove her on.

Ghost’s savage barking echoed off the hallway walls and rang in her ears. He shot down the hall, a flare of bright white flame, and burst into the doorway to L.J.’s room.

Hannah scrambled into the room, gun up, pulse roaring.

Heavy shadows were everywhere. The dark shape of the crib. Window on the far wall. Dresser beside the closet door.

Movement to her left.

The flash of a knife.

A human-shaped shadow lunged out of the darkness.

Hannah’s heart seized. Panic nailed her to the floor.

A flurry of white erupted. Ghost flung himself at the shadow, growling, snarling, jaws snapping with savage fury.

One hundred and forty pounds of solid mass barreled into human flesh, knocking the assailant backward into the crib. Two forms writhing, grappling with each other. A crash and a thud.

The assailant shrieked. The sound cut off abruptly by a wet crunch. Wrenching and tearing. Mangled cries.

Ghost crouched atop the fallen figure, ripping his throat from his body.

From the crib, an infant’s incensed cry rang out. For a second, she thought it was Charlotte. Then she recognized L.J.’s scratchy wail.

She started for the crib, her only thought for her baby.

“Don’t move!” a gravelly voice said.

A second assailant stood in front of the window. A dark hulking figure, dressed in black, his shape bulky with tactical gear.

Ten feet away.

A bundle squirmed in his arms. Charlotte.

The bundle shifted to the left as he adjusted his hold, clutching the child in one arm. Charlotte squealed in protest. The glint of a muzzle barrel rose toward Hannah.

Time slowed.

No time to think. To weigh the pros and cons. Evaluate the risks.

If she didn’t act, she was dead, and Charlotte gone.

She acted.

Hannah lifted the .45 with both hands. Braced the butt with her bad hand. Aimed to the right of center mass, exhaled, and squeezed.

The pistol bucked in her hands. The shot exploded in her ears.

The assailant jerked. He yelled a ragged curse. Charlotte and L.J. screamed louder.

Instinct and training took over. She lowered slightly and fired again.

His body spun to the right. With a thud, the bundle in his arm dropped to the carpeted floor.

Hannah flinched. Her mind screamed in fear and outrage, but she kept her focus. Fired a third time, aiming for his pelvis below his body armor.

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