Bailey Douglas POV:
The Brown Recluse moved with terrifying speed. Its hairy legs scrambled across my pale skin. Before I could even flinch, it sank its razor-sharp fangs directly into the blue vein on the back of my hand.
White-hot agony exploded up my arm. It felt like liquid fire was being injected straight into my blood.
My muscles violently spasmed. My fingers gave out. The velvet box slipped from my grasp and hit the hardwood floor with a dull clatter. The spider hit the ground and instantly scurried into the dark crack beneath the baseboard, vanishing entirely.
I clutched my burning hand to my chest. I stumbled backward, my spine slamming hard against the wooden railing of the stairs. I gasped for air, but my lungs felt tight.
At the exact same moment, Haleigh let out another blood-curdling shriek. She fell backward, her arms flailing. As she went down, she deliberately twisted her body, making sure her forehead scraped against the sharp corner of the marble statue base near the sofa.
"Haleigh!" Jameson roared.
The sound tore from his throat like a wounded animal. He sprinted across the room, diving toward the floor, and pulled her into his arms.
Derrick and Blake lunged forward, their faces pale with terror as they surrounded her.
Kane didn't go to Haleigh. He turned to me. His eyes were completely unhinged with rage.
He crossed the distance between us in two strides. He grabbed the front of my wet shirt in his massive fists and slammed me back against the wall. The impact knocked the remaining air out of my lungs.
"What did you put in that box?!" Kane screamed in my face, spit flying from his lips. "You sick freak!"
I couldn't answer him. The venom was already racing through my system. The back of my hand was rapidly swelling, the skin turning a sickening shade of purple and black. My vision blurred into dark, fuzzy patches.
I opened my mouth to tell him I was bitten. To tell him I was dying. But my throat was swelling shut. Only a broken, wheezing hiss came out.
Kane didn't look at my hand. He didn't care. He shoved me away with brutal force.
I collapsed onto the floor, my knees hitting the wood hard.
"Derrick, get the car to the front! Now!" Jameson yelled, his voice trembling with panic.
He was holding Haleigh. A tiny, single drop of blood was welling up on her forehead from the scrape.
Haleigh clung to Jameson's lapels. She kept her eyes half-closed, crying softly. "Jameson, I'm so scared... Why does Bailey hate me so much?"
"I've got you. You're going to be okay," Jameson whispered frantically. He turned his head and glared at me where I lay gasping on the floor. His eyes were pure ice. "If something happens to her, I will kill you myself, Bailey."
The four towering men formed a protective wall around Haleigh. They lifted her up and rushed her out the front doors, treating a paper-cut like a fatal gunshot wound.
The heavy brass doors slammed shut behind them.
The noise vanished. The manor fell into a deadly, suffocating silence.
I lay curled on the cold floor. I couldn't breathe. Anaphylactic shock was shutting down my organs. My airway was a pinhole.
I remembered being thirteen. I had a fever of 104 degrees. I was lying in the basement, shivering, while the entire family packed their bags and flew Haleigh to a ski resort in Switzerland because she had a mild sniffle and needed "fresh mountain air."
They left me to die then. They were leaving me to die now.
I dragged my body forward. My fingernails scraped against the wood. I forced myself to crawl toward the landline phone resting on the side table near the sofa.
My vision went completely black. My fingers brushed the plastic cord of the phone. Then, my strength snapped. My body crashed heavily onto the floor.
The swinging door to the kitchen suddenly pushed open.
Maria, the head maid, walked out holding a tray with a bowl of hot soup. "Mr. Jameson, I made—"
She stopped. She saw me lying motionless on the floor, surrounded by a puddle of dark, toxic blood leaking from the bite wound.
The tray slipped from her hands. The porcelain bowl shattered, hot soup splashing everywhere.
Maria screamed. She threw herself onto her knees beside me. She grabbed my shoulders, her hands shaking violently when she saw my black, swollen arm and my blue lips.
She scrambled over my body and grabbed the phone. Her fingers smashed the 911 buttons.
"Help! Please! Send an ambulance to the Douglas Estate!" Maria sobbed into the receiver. "She's been bitten! She's not breathing!"
While the operator dispatched the medics, Maria kept the phone pressed to her ear and pulled out her cell phone. She frantically dialed Jameson's number.
It rang twice. Then, it was declined.
She dialed Kane. Declined. Derrick. Declined.
They were hanging up on her.
Through the thick, crushing darkness of my fading consciousness, I felt something wet and warm hit my cheek. It was Maria's tears.
I used the absolute last shred of my energy to weakly curl my fingers around Maria's hand.
My heart slowed to a crawl. My mind went blank. But before the darkness took me completely, a single, burning thought branded itself into my soul.
"If I survive this, I will make all of you pay."
