Total pages in book: 71
Estimated words: 77171 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 386(@200wpm)___ 309(@250wpm)___ 257(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77171 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 386(@200wpm)___ 309(@250wpm)___ 257(@300wpm)
Then—
Brick slams into my back.
The impact knocks the breath out of me in a gasp. Pain flares in my shoulder and neck, but it’s already secondary.
Because—
Hands.
One still locked around my wrist. The other coming up—
I twist, instinct snapping in before thought, and drive my free hand forward.
He catches it effortlessly.
My wrist is pinned beside the other, both of them held in one grip, lifted just enough to throw off my balance.
Air. I need air.
My chest tightens, breath shallow, fast—too fast—and for one disorienting second, nothing makes sense.
This isn’t happening.
This is—
No.
It is.
My body knows it before my brain does.
I’m in danger.
Real and immediate danger.
My heart slams again, harder this time, adrenaline hitting like a bomb dropping.
I try to pull free.
I can’t.
Not even a shift.
He’s stronger.
My stomach churns, and I go still. Not because I want to. Because I have to.
My breathing is uneven, too fast, and I force it down, force it slower, even as my pulse keeps racing.
Think.
Think.
This isn’t random. This can’t be random. There’s no fumbling. No hesitation. No voice raised in threat or demand.
He shifts closer. Just enough that I can feel the heat of him, the space collapsing in a way that makes everything else fall away.
My back presses harder into the brick. I have nowhere to go, nowhere to move, and the reality of that settles in deep and cold.
I can’t get out of this.
Not by force.
My body wants to fight again.
I don’t let it.
Not yet.
Not until I understand.
I tilt my head slightly, trying to catch his face, but it’s shadowed. Which is worse. This person knows what he’s doing.
He tightens his grip, just barely, but enough to remind me exactly how easily he could break me.
My pulse jumps again, and fear surges with it.
“It didn’t end that night. And if you don’t stop this, it will never end.”
His voice is low.
Even.
No strain. No anger.
That’s what makes it cut.
For a split second, my mind blanks. Then a colder kind of fear slips in under the first.
My breath catches, not loud, but enough that I feel it, the loss of control in something as basic as breathing.
I force it back.
Think.
This isn’t about hurting me. If it were, I’d already be on the ground.
Already bleeding.
Already—
He knows I’m close.
He knows what I’ve seen.
He loosens his grip slightly.
Then—
Nothing.
He lets go.
No shove.
No follow-through.
No escalation.
One second he’s there, and the next…
He’s gone.
I don’t move.
I can’t.
My body stays locked in place, back against the wall, wrists still half-raised like they’re expecting resistance that isn’t there anymore.
My heart is pounding, each beat echoing in my ears, drowning out everything else.
My hands are shaking.
I hate that.
I lower them slowly, forcing control back into the movement, even as my fingers tremble.
Breathe.
In.
Out.
Again.
The night rushes back in around me—distant traffic, footsteps somewhere down the block, the world continuing like nothing just happened.
Like I wasn’t just—
I press my palm briefly against the wall to ground myself, feeling the rough texture of the brick under my skin.
I could walk away. Go home. Lock the door. Let this end here.
My fear doesn’t go away. It stays. Sits under my ribs.
I push off the wall…
And I walk…straight back to the club.
27
SAMSON
I close the office door behind me, and the sound of the club hits all at once—music, voices, glass, bodies packed too close together.
And then—
Her.
Delaney stands just off the edge of the crowd. She isn’t blending in. She’s holding herself still.
I walk toward her. People move out of my way. They always do. I don’t look at them. I don’t slow.
I grab her arm but she yanks it free.
“What happened?” I demand. “Why are you still here?”
“I went outside,” she says.
“And?”
She pauses for a moment. Then she draws in a breath. “I was grabbed.”
Rage curls at my neck, and every cell in my body goes on alert. I’m ready. Ready as I always am. For battle.
“Where?” I growl.
“Half a block down.”
“Who?”
“I didn’t see his face.”
Doesn’t matter.
I reach for her wrist again. She stiffens the moment I touch her, but this time she doesn’t yank it away. I turn her hand over and press my thumb into her palm. Then I look into her eyes, at her lips, at her arms.
No marks. At least no new ones.
“What did he do?” I ask.
“He stopped me.”
“Did he hurt you?”
“No.”
Relief swirls through me, even though this means someone sent him to send a message. And I’m pretty sure it was Nate. I hope he’s up for another left hook from me.
I lift my gaze back to hers. “What did he say?”
She doesn’t look away. “He said, ‘It didn’t end that night. And if you don’t stop this, it will never end.’”
My body goes tense. I release her wrist but then take it again immediately.
“What did he mean by that?” she asks.
I don’t answer. “Come with me.”
“I’m not—”
“You are.”
I turn and move, pulling her with me. She resists for half a step but then adjusts quickly, matching my pace instead of fighting it.