Page 40 of Never Fall for an Angel

MILA

Hefound me.

Hefuckingfoundme.

My legs burn with each step I take, but I don’t stop. I can’t. I have to get the fuck out of here before he catches me for good. This time, I don’t think I’ll make it out alive. All this time, I’ve been worried about the ghost of my past, but it’s been him.

God, how could I have been so stupid?

Barreling through my motel room door, I nearly fall on my ass as the water from the light rain outside causes me to slip onthe tile. I catch myself on the bed, falling to the dirty carpet and drawing my knees up to my chest, my body frozen.

He’s here.

He’s actually fucking here.

What the hell am I going to do?

“Get up,” I mutter, forcing my legs to move, even though they’re shaky.

I don’t know when the next bus will arrive, but I’ll hike until then. As a last resort, I can make my way through the woods. He won’t find me out there.

I scurry around, shoving all my stuff in my bags without any order. I don’t have time for order.

I don’t know where he went after I ran, but if I know him, he already knows where I am.

Fuck, I have to run.

A knock sounds at the door and I hold my breath, that old familiar feeling of dread washing through me.

Fuck.

Of course, he’s been following me.

One doesn’t simply shoot Christian Cross and get away with it. There are always consequences.

“Casey, dear,” June’s voice filters through the busted wood, and instantly, I let out a sigh of relief. I’d forgotten I was supposed to meet her.

“Just a minute,” I call, my voice shaking. I shove the remaining items in my bag before I zip it all up just as another knock sounds.

Sorry, June. A little busy trying not to get murdered here.

Rushing to the door, I open it, prepared to tell her I’m leaving with no questions asked.

Then I stop dead in my tracks when it’s not the light brown pair of gentle eyes that belong to June on the other side of the door.

No . . . It’s the deep blue eyes of the devil himself.

“Oh, fuck.”

Christian leans against the doorframe, looking up at me through his lashes. Every single nerve ending in my body short circuits, and that’s the only telltale sign that lets me know I’m—unfortunately—still breathing, and this is real.

He holds up a syringe, clear liquid sloshing around inside as if it’s mocking me.

—Scratch that. This isreallyreal.

I fall back a step. Christian steps into the doorway, blocking the only exit.

“No more running, Mila.”

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