Page 100 of Daughters of Chaos

Rinse. Repeat.

The next time they came was the hardest yet. I was so tired, so worn down. When they showed up, I was all but depleted. I don't know how I managed to fight them for so long, but I did. My blocks weren't as strong, and my jabs weren't as hard. They could tell, and they took advantage of their upper hand.

The broken-nosed prick got ahold of my arms, trapping them behind me as Dom's hand circled my throat. That was the firsttime I truly felt panic. It was the first time I thought they'd actually won.

I kicked and squirmed, but they were too strong. I was so tired, so weak by then that I had nothing left. Still, I didn't give up. Even as Dom's nasty mouth nipped at my skin and hands wandered all over me on top of my clothes. Lower. Lower.

His cohort cupped my chest from behind, telling me all the horrible things he had planned for me. Anger and rage fueled me then, kept me going, made me keep fighting.

They were starting to work their hands under my clothes when someone came in—all members were summoned for a meeting with the boss.

Dom tried to pull rank. Told him he'd be there when they were done with me, but Scar was adamant, according to the messenger. Immediately. They had to meet immediately. It was important.

I almost couldn't believe it when they relented. I thanked the universe when they let me go, even as they left with a promise to return and pick up where they'd left off.

It was enough. I'd rest a while more; then, I'd have more energy to fight them when they came back.

It was enough.

It had to be.

I'd keep fighting until the Sons came. I could do that. I would survive until then, and if, by some tragedy, they didn't find me, I'd still keep fighting.

I'd fight until the bitter end.

Creaking. Heavy footsteps.

They were back.

Soon, too soon. But it didn't matter, they were back, and I had to fight. Everything felt heavy, muddled under a cape of exhaustion. Pain seeped through my muscles and into my bones. My throat was parched and sore. My skin was caked in dirt and dried blood.

Get up. You have to keep fighting.

Get up!

I tried to open my eyes, but they were so heavy. So. Tired.

Muffled sounds I couldn't quite make out echoed in the tiny room. I took a breath and tried to steady myself for the fight. After that, everything was hazy. Bits and pieces of visions sped through my mind. My heart was racing, my limbs felt like anchors, and my body was so tired.

A light touch. A familiar face—two familiar faces—one kind and concerned, the other broody and intense.

I smiled at the memory of their faces, or at least I think I did. Jesse. Reaper. Did they come for me? Or was it my exhausted mind playing games? I wasn’t sure.

At least if I had to go now, I'd go out thinking of them. My friend and my—

Darkness overcame me and my mind faded with exhaustion, too tired to keep up the fight.

Did I speak, or was that all in my imagination? Did they? Was any of it real?

I didn't think defeat would feel like that—warm and safe. It must have been my mind's way of protecting me.

Huh . . .

I sighed as I slipped into that warm, safe place, and the world around me faded to nothing.

60

Raven

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