Could she do this?

She was no longer confident she’d have the strength to lift her arm, let alone plunge the shiv into his neck.

All the muscles to be found there flashed through her mind at once—the sternocleidomastoid, the omohyoid, the sternohyoid and so many others. It was almost as if she were back in anatomy class staring down at a cadaver. She could cut through any of the muscles. She believed she could even cut through the hyoid bone. If she hit his trachea, his jugular or one of his carotid arteries, she might have a shot at disabling him enough for her to get away. She just couldn’t hit his mandible. If she did, he’d simply grab her hand, get hold of the shiv and … what? Kill her with it?

Although he hadn’t seemed particularly violent, he was an ex-con. Who knew what he was capable of?

“No way!” he shouted. “This can’t be happening!”

He stood over her; she could see his giant shadow on the wall.

Holding the shiv that much tighter, she continued to cry and shake. She didn’t think she could speak. But nothing she could say would convince him if what he saw didn’t.

“Hey, damn it! What’s going on? Can’t you hear me?” He bent down to grab her shoulder, trying to turn her so that she’d have to look at him.

In that moment, she was tempted to simply grovel and beg for him to let her go. But she couldn’t be sure he’d have any sympathy. And she couldn’t gamble with the only chance she had to escape. Lyman Bishop could be on his way right now, and she wasn’t going to allow herself or her daughter to become a victim of his.

“Is the baby coming now?” he asked.

That last word, “now,” galvanized her into action. Rolling toward him as fast as she could, she caught only a brief glimpse of his face—a stranger’s face with a scar—before bringing her hand up and shoving her shiv into his neck, right in the hollow under his ear.

She’d missed his jaw. Thank God!

His eyes flew so wide open they almost bugged out of his head. His mouth moved, but only a rasping gasp came out.

He reached for the weapon she’d created, but she didn’t leave it in his neck. She pulled it out and shoved it in again and again.

She couldn’t stop.

Why wasn’t he crumbling to the floor?

She cried out with each thrust, a desperate, animalistic cry, and the strength she’d been lacking came flooding back.

Finally, he managed to overcome the shock and pain and catch hold of the shiv, so she let it go and dashed around him. The door stood open, beckoning her to freedom, and all she could think about was Amarok in Hilltop, searching for her to no avail, worried sick about her and their unborn child.

I’m coming.

She’d reached the open doorway.

She was going to survive.