Page 33 of Corrupt Me

I couldn’t see the other guy, but I heard the smile in his voice as he said, “You, pretty little thing, get to watch.”

Wrong response.

Sam gave my hand one last squeeze before she released it.

Please don’t let us die, I prayed, steeling myself for the fallout about to unfold.

Everything happened at once. Sam’s arm lifted quickly, her finger pressing hard on the mace’s button, spraying the asshole in front of her. The guy with the knife reached for me, and I attempted to scramble out of the way. His beefy fingers latched on my upper arm, yanking me back toward him just as his friend started swearing and wailing, calling Sam a string of colorful words.

Fighting off the jock who had more than a hundred pounds on me felt like an impossible task, but it didn’t stop me from turning into a she-devil. In my rush of adrenaline and panic, I’d forgotten about the blade. My attacker was quick to remind me as he slammed me into the building. My head hit bricks, the impact jarring and sending splintering pain to the back of my skull.

“Screaming will only make this hurt more,” he said, his mouth too close to my face. I smelled the alcohol on his breath, and it made me gag. “Now stay still while I do my best work.” He brought the blade up to my face, using his other forearm to press against my throat in a way that forced my head to the side. The rough, sharp texture of clay sediments dug and scratched my cheek.

I held my breath, debating if I should close my eyes, grit my teeth, and bear the pain about to be inflicted on me or if I should scream and fight. Lucky for me, Sam reacted, coming to my rescue before I had to make a choice.

She hurtled onto my attacker’s back, wrapping her legs around his waist and securing her arms at his neck like a viper’s coiled tail, a risky move with the knife so close to my face, but I had to give her credit for her grit. I wasn’t sure I would have the same courage. Also, I was pretty sure she was running on pure adrenaline and not thinking about safety.

“You bitch,” he hissed, stumbling back as he tried to dislodge her from his back and, in the process, freeing me from the prison of his hefty body.

“Sam!” I screamed, shoving off the wall to help my friend, but a pair of arms tangled around my waist, keeping me from moving forward.What. The. Fuck.

Whyyyyyy?

My mind immediately went to my assailant’s accomplice, the one Sam hit with the mace. Had it worn off already? Had there been a third guy with them, hiding in the shadows?

“Calm down, Shortcake,” the one holding me hissed in my ear.

Only one person ever called me that. The bane of my existence.

Tristan.

Relief as I’d never felt flooded my body, and I leaned into him, confident he would support me. Tristan might be a jerk at the best of times, but he was a dependable jerk.

“Sam,” I whimpered, body shaking. I hadn’t noticed the trembling until I was pressed against Tristan’s body.

He scowled. “Stay here.” He left me leaning against the building, stalking over to Sam still struggling to stay on my attacker’s back. Neither noticed Tristan as he approached. Not until he sank his fist into the guy’s face, knocking his head back and nearly dislodging Sam’s teeth. Her head went to the side a moment before shit went sideways, avoiding being smacked in the face by the back of the guy’s head.

Sam dropped off the jackass’s back, leaving him to Tristan, and rushed toward me, stepping around knife boy’s friend who was still hunched over, rubbing at his very red eyes. They looked painful, but I had no energy to feel sympathy for him, not after what they had planned for me.

I hugged Sam when she reached me.

“What did I tell you about Ever being off-limits?” Tristan glowered, clenching the guy by the front of his shirt. He didn’t give him a chance to reply, not before popping him again on the side of his jaw. The crunch of Tristan’s knuckles connecting to bone was audible this time, and I winced, regardless that I cared little for the other guy’s face.

“Damn it, Malone,” the asshole hissed, blood now leaking from his nose and lip. “A deal is a deal.” His hand came up, clasping Tristan’s forearm as if he stood a chance at stopping another fist to the face.

Tristan must not have liked his response. He hit him again, blood staining his knuckles. “And I told you I’ll get you the money.” His fist slammed into his gut.

A wheezing groan expelled from knife guy’s lips, and the blade he clutched clattered to the ground as he doubled over. “Why do you keep hitting me?” As soon as the question was out, he winced, waiting for the next blow.

Tristan kicked the knife away, and it skidded down the sidewalk into the dark. “Because you didn’t listen yesterday when I told you to stay away from her. Perhaps the cuts and bruises will remind you not to be a fool this time.”

“Why do you give a shit what happens to this little bitch?” The question was said with such flippant venom as if women in general were beneath him but me in particular.

One second Tristan was scowling in front of my attacker, and the next, he had him slammed to the ground. The few hits before were nothing compared to the beating knife guy took now. Hit after hit, Tristan pummeled his fists into him, and eventually, the idiot under him stopped warding Tristan off, going limp, but Tristan didn’t seem to care, blind in his rage.

“Holy shit,” Sam whispered. “He’s going to kill him.”

She was right. I had to stop this. “Tristan!” I screamed, shoving off the brick wall. “Tristan, stop,” I called again, moving closer to him but careful not to touch him.

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