Page 170 of Brutal Prince

The woman glares at me, her lips working for a moment. Then she storms closer. “Nonsense. She was in her room when I left…”

The old woman steps into the room. It takes her a moment to spot the blood, and when she does she puts a hand on her chest and steps deliberately back as if it was a snake rearing to bite.

“No,” she murmurs, shaking her head. “No.”

“Call the police,” I say. “Tell them it’s Marcus Baker. He’s got her.”

I don’t wait for her response — I’m already rushing down the stairs three at a time.

But where to?

My first thought would have been the woods, but I was just there. We would have passed each other. I would have seen him. So where?

Burning lungs force me to a halt a few yards outside the house. I fall to my knees, dragging air through a tattered windpipe as my fingers dig into the grass.

Back to where it all started, of course.

Back to the Baker house.

* * *

Indi

I swingthe bat the same moment my door opens. There’s a bark of pain from outside, and the hand that had taken hold of the door handle darts back into the hall.

Shit, too soon!

I rush around the corner, lifting the bat for another blow, but Marcus is too fast for me. He steps forward, grabs the base of the bat, and twists it out of my hands.

It happens so fast, my scream of rage twists into a shriek of pain as my wrists bend the wrong way.

I sag, desperately trying to pull my hands free, but then Marcus is inside my room, and the door’s already slamming shut behind him.

He grabs the front of my shirt, draws back his hand, and slams his fist into my nose.

Heat, pain, blood explodes from my face. I yell, gurgle, fall to the floor. In a second my shirt is soaked.

Marcus grabs me again, hauls me to my feet. I splutter, coating his face in a fine spray of bloody mist.

He doesn’t even notice.

“I have Addy.” His voice is barely legible, not even a little human. Black eyes dig into my head like a migraine.

“Wh-?”

“I’ll kill her.”

I shake my head. “Pl-please—”

“Then walk.” He shoves me so hard, I tumble over my own feet and land on the floor. I grunt, and a splatter of blood lands on the carpet by my hand.

That’s it. One splatter.

That’s the only evidence of this struggle.

And the struggle is over, I know it. I’ve already lost. Already surrendered.

I lift shaking hands. “I’ll come. Just…I’m coming.”