Page 1 of Need Him Like Oxygen

CHAPTER ONE

Cinna

The moon was full, fragmenting through the spiderweb cracks in the windows, casting the room in light that made it hard to find shadows to hide in.

I slumped down the wall, the chill creeping in through the stone, seeping into my bones, making the sweat—or was it blood?—on my skin cool, dragging a shiver out of me.

My breath was coming in ragged gasps.

I couldn’t keep moving.

My lungs were on fire.

I needed a minute, just one, to bring some calm to the chaos in my body.

Even as I sucked in a greedy breath full of dust, exhaust, and the acrid scent of vomit, I heard it.

Heard them.

Footsteps.

Making their way in my direction.

Some part of me, a weak, pathetic part I thought I’d killed off years ago, simply wanted to give into the screaming in my ribs, the pain jackhammering in my skull, the throbbing ache in my arm, and the swirling exhaustion in my head, to slide all the way to the ground, let them find me, and just finish this.

My chin dipped toward my chest, eyes drifting closed, but I clawed my way back toward consciousness.

I had one singular goal here.

Survival.

I couldn’t afford to give in to the pain assaulting me with each movement, with each breath.

I had to keep moving.

Gritting my teeth against the way pain seared up my side as I stood, I turned and started to move again.

My steps were silent after kicking off my boots three rooms, two ripped socks, and two bloody soles ago.

This building, whatever it had once been, was clearly now a hangout spot for kids or junkies, the ground littered with broken beer bottles that sliced into my feet as I kept forcing my way across the room.

I tried not to think about what else might be littering the ground—used condoms, spent needles, piss, or that vomit scent that was getting stronger as I moved across the open space.

There would be time to worry about my injuries and infection later.

Right now, I had to move.

“Come out, come out, wherever you aaaare!” a sing-song voice taunted, making my stomach flip and my adrenaline surge.

There was an eerie silence outside of the building, like the city itself was holding its breath, was waiting to see what happened next.

I hated open floor plans. These big, spacious rooms with nowhere to hide, with nothing to put between you and those who meant you harm.

I crept across the room, my own breath and heartbeat so loud in my ears, I would swear they could hear it, even from a room or two away.

My hand slid instinctively toward my waist, looking for my gun.

The one they’d taken from me already.

---