Page 91 of Ruthless Intent

His hand leaves my jaw and he examines my shoulder. I can’t hold back a yelp when he pokes and prods around the graze.

“It’s not dislocated. Just bruised, I think.”

“Maybe I should see a doctor.”

“I don’t think it’s necessary.”

“You’re going to withhold medical care?”

He snorts. “You’re not dying, Firecracker. I think you’ll survive.”

“I might have a concussion. I hit my head.”

“I’m pretty sure you wouldn’t be making so much noise if you had a concussion.” As he speaks, he crouches down.

“What are you doing now?”

“Checking your knees.”

“I can do that.”

He ignores me, and cleans the dirt from my knees. He’s surprisingly gentle. It bothers me. But I don’t want to examine why too deeply.

“All done. You were lucky you didn’t break your neck.”

“And take the opportunity away from you?” My response is tart.

He straightens. “I’ve been tempted.”

He steps closer. My breath hitches when his hand wraps around my throat, and gives a slight squeeze.

“You have no idea how many nights I spent lying on the bed in my cell dreaming about the day I would get out of there and find you. I had so many ideas. So many plans for what I was going to do to you. How I’d make you pay for what you did. But the one thing they had in common was they all ended the same way.”

His fingers flex. I swallow, but my mouth has dried up. The amusement I heard earlier is gone, and there is nothing but darkness in his voice.

“Do you want to know how all my dreams ended, Ashley?”

No, I really don’t.

My heart is throwing itself against my ribs. He isn’t squeezing my throat so tight that I can’t breathe, but there’s a look in his eyes, a slight curl to his lips, that suggests he will if I do or say anything to provoke him.

The change in his behavior is a clear reminder.

This is the man I testified against.

This is the man who spent fourteen years in a maximum security prison.

This is the monster he warned me about.

CHAPTER FIFTY

ZAIN

What are you doing? You’re holding a conversation with her like she’s your best friend. This is the girl who lied to the police about you. Why the fuck are you cleaning her grazes and chatting to her like she didn’t ruin your life? You swore you’d destroy her, so why isn’t she scared of you?

When she makes a sarcastic comment about breaking her neck, I decide it’s time to remind her of who I am.

My hand is around her throat before I realize I’ve moved. All I have to do is squeeze a little harder, and it’ll cut off her ability to breathe.

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