“Brad,” I blurt, desperate to get through to him. I’ve got nowhere to run, nowhere to hide—my only hope is to make himlisten. “The baby is innocent. Please don’t hurt my baby. Not again.”
That seems to give him pause—“Not again.”
For a second, only a second, he stops.
Then rage twists his features. “I should have hit you harder the first time,” he snarls. “I won’t make the same mistake withthis one.”
I curl up into a ball. I don’t even bother to cover my face—my arms seal themselves around my belly, a weak shield of flesh
Something throws itself in the way of Brad’s fist. I hear the crash of a small body against the bookcase.
“Eli!” I crawl towards my son, panicked. He’s clutching his shoulder, but a quick exam tells me it’s not dislocated, thankGod. “Are you okay, baby? Are you hurt
