Baby crashed through the back door, splintering the wood. He bounded into the kitchen. Blood dripped from his paws and small pieces of wood, foam, and metal clung to his skin.
I dropped to my knees and threw my arms around his neck.
“Oh my God. Are you okay?”
I turned and stared into the barrel of a gun and the eyes of Chris Russell. For a moment, I glimpsed into a pair of cold, dark eyes. A shiver went up my spine.
Baby growled.
I held him tighter. If we died, we would die together.
Will this nightmare never end?
