Page 156 of Snared Rider

Holy shit.

Then he closes the space between us, his hand fisting into my hair and tugging my head back so hard I feel like my scalp is on fire.

“She’s mine! Mine! And I want her here now!” Spittle flies from his mouth as he barks the words out.

He’s lost it, completely.

He releases my head with a shove that makes my entire body sway on the hook. Searing pain flashes through my torso, spreading out from my broken ribs. It’s agony. I try to breathe through it but I can barely manage even shallow breaths.

“Leave her the fuck alone.” Dean’s sluggish voice breaks through Wilson’s ragged pants and draws both our attention.

Oh, thank God.

Dean’s awake.

He doesn’t sound alert, but I’ll take him talking as a win. Talking isn’t dead.

“Oh look; our guest of honour is finally back with us.”

He strides over to where Dean is hanging and seizes a handful of his hair, dragging his head up. There’s blood on Dean’s face and his beard, and this makes saliva pool in my mouth. How hurt is he? If I can get free, can he walk out of here with me?

I take a breath.

One problem at a time.

“Nice to see you’re awake. How do you like your accommodation?”

Dean’s gaze slides slowly around the space before coming back to him. “It’s sure as fuck not the Hilton.”

I don't see Wilson’s expression as his back is to me but I can see the moment his control snaps. His shoulders tense and his fist pulls back before slamming into Dean’s gut.

The force of the hit makes him sway violently on the hook and the groan that slips from his mouth twists my stomach.

“Stop it,” I say, my voice shredded raw.

“I’ll stop when he gives me what is mine.” He turns back to Dean. “Where’s Olivia?”

Dean meets his gaze and to my astonishment, his lips curve up into a smile.

“Fuck you, Wilson.”

The silence that follows these words is deafening. For a moment, I think nothing will happen. Then, Wilson’s control slips again.

He slams his fist again into Dean’s face so hard his head snaps back.

“Where is she?”

Dean’s head snaps to the side and bobs a little as he tries to find his equilibrium. “I don’t know where the fuck she is, but even if I did, I wouldn’t tell you shit.”

I see Dean brace, waiting for another hit but Wilson doesn’t deliver. Instead, his head tilts to the side and he steps back. Then he turns and walks back to me.

I glance at Dean, whose gaze is locked on Wilson, before bringing my attention back to the man himself.

What is he doing?

His unpredictability scares me.

He stops in front of me, his lips curling into a sneer. Then, he hits me.

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