Page 34 of The Pucking Wrong Man

“Say thank you to your brother for helping you to see the error of your ways, Ana.”

“Thank you,” I said automatically, trained from years of him forcing me to thank him for abusing me.

“Tell me you’re not going to let me down anymore, little bunny,” he ordered in that scary, soft tone that always came before something really bad happened.

“Don’t call me that,” I said in a cracked voice as I took another step away from him, memories I did my best to bury coming to the surface.

“Little bunnnnny,” a voice whispered as something sharp slid down my arm.

I whimpered and woke up, blinking as I stared around the darkness, trying to figure out what was going on.

It took me a second to realize that I didn’t have any clothes on.

And I’d definitely had on leggings and a t-shirt before I’d fallen asleep.

I let out a whimper, my eyes searching the dark corners of the room as I grabbed for my sheet so I could cover myself.

I could hear his heavy breathing, but for some reason I was having trouble finding where he was. Maybe it was because of the adrenaline surging through my veins, clogging my throat and making me dizzy.

It felt like I was trapped in some kind of nightmare. And why was my arm still stinging?

Slapping my arm, I tried to stop the weird stinging sensation.

I gasped when I felt something warm, wet…and sticky.

He’d cut me.

“Little bunnny,” he whispered from somewhere close by again.

“But isn’t that what you are?” Michael asked, bringing me back from the horror-soaked past with a placid laugh that would sound normal to anyone else. They would miss the absolute evil threaded through its every decibel. “My little bunny? You really should stop delaying the inevitable, Ana. You belong to me, we both know it.” He extended his hand, and I’d never wanted something less.

“Stay away from me,” I told him, my spine straightening, resolve flooding my insides, even though I knew I was provoking him even more.

“You know I can’t do that,” he smirked, mockingly shaking his head.

His muscles tensed, and just as he was about to lunge, a girl came out of the dance studio. I’d never been more happy to see someone in my entire life.

“Lacey!” I called out, my voice sounding frantic and weird enough that she stared at me like I was insane. “Let me walk with you.”

We had literally said maybe ten words to each other during a class last year, so she was definitely thinking I’d gone crazy...but the alternative was staying here alone with Michael.

Lacey’s steps slowed, and her gaze bounced between Michael and me, hesitation and confusion all over her face.

Michael had paused at her appearance, his body stretched with tension as he stopped just an arms length away from me.

“Anastasia, I was just looking for you,” Lacey said in a flat, almost reluctant tone. She was eyeing Michael nervously now, obviously having felt that innate female intuition that told her he was someone to stay away from.

“Ana—” Michael warned, his arm reaching out to me.

I sidestepped him and hurried toward Lacey, fear hammering at my insides. Lacey held out her hand, and I grabbed it, shocked and immeasurably grateful as she hurried us down the streetlight-lit sidewalk. It was opposite the bus stop I usually took to get to my next job, but I didn’t care. Anywhere that was away from Michael would work for me.

We made it to the edge of the block, neither of us having said a word yet, and I glanced back at Michael.

He was standing in the shadows of the dance academy, in the same spot I’d left him.

Even from here, there was a dark promise in his gaze that spelled nothing but danger for me.

And in the back of my mind, pushed away so that I didn’t think about it, I wondered when he would make that promise come true.

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