Page 140 of Vengeful Guard

I try to look at him through the tiny slit in my eyes, and then I spit blood into his face.

He curses in Gaelic, and his fist comes down on my face so hard everything spins.

He rips off his tie, shoving it into my mouth.

My nose’s clogged from clotted blood, most likely, and the tie’s making me gag, so I’m struggling to get some air into my lungs.

“She’s going to die if you leave her gagged,” Skinny growls as he carries me into a dark room.

“Who cares?”

“Boss does. Besides, no one around for miles anyway. Let the bitch scream.”

Fatso shrugs and yanks the tie out of my mouth, and I gasp for air, sucking in oxygen like I’ve been drowning.

I squirm on Skinny’s shoulder, trying to get him to let me go.

I don’t want to stay here, I need to run.

Skinny throws me on the ground, and all the air I had recovered leaves me again.

I lie there on my side for a second, just breathe, my muscles aching from being tied up and stuck in that trunk for god knows how long.

But I have to get out of here. I can’t give up.

If only I could breathe. And then I’m alone in the room, the door slamming behind my captors.

I don’t know how long I’ve been lying here when the door creaks open to let Skinny in. He’s bringing me food.

I’m suddenly ravenous, and I wonder how many hours I’ve been here.

It’s a ham sandwich, and I look up at him.

I can see a bit better now, though not much. I think the cool in the bedroom is helping with the swelling in my eyes.

“Can you please untie my hands? I’ll be good.”

He looks down at me suspiciously, but then shrugs. “Can’t see how else you’re going to eat. I’m not going to bloody feed you.”

He reaches down with a switchblade and cuts the zip ties, and I smile up at him innocently before grabbing on to his ankle and leaning forward to sink my teeth into it, as far as I can.

He screeches, kicking, and as he does, I grab his switch knife, cut the bindings tying my feet together and scramble up and out of the room.

As I step outside, though, my head is yanked back by my hair.

He drags me back, and I thrash kicking, scratching, doing anything and everything I can remember to try and get free again.

He throws me up against the wall, cracking something in my back.

“If you want to play hard, we can, bitch.” He throws me to the ground. “Good luck eating in the dark.”

Oh, no, you don’t!

I rush at him, but he kicks me in the face. I’m pretty sure it loosens a tooth.

Crying out, I keep fighting.

I have to get out of here. I have to escape. I just need to fight hard enough.

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