Page 126 of Sexting the Boss

The other guy grabs my other arm, and suddenly they’re pulling—toward the black car idling half a block down. The door’s already open.

Panic explodes in my chest. “Let go of me!” I scream, twisting, kicking—anything.

No one hears. There’s no one around.

“He should’ve known better than to leave you walking around like this.”

The words barely register through the panic, but something about the word “he” makes my stomach twist. What does that mean? Who’s “he”?

I kick harder, nails clawing at the hand over my mouth. They haul me closer to the car, one guy yanking the door open.

“She’s coming with us,” the other hisses. “Let’s see how Zaitsev likes getting a little message.”

My blood runs cold. Zaitsev. Damien.

That’s when it hits me—I’m not some random target. This is about him.

They start shoving me inside. I scrape my foot against the doorframe, fighting for balance, but the grip on me tightens.

And then—like something out of a goddamn movie—I hearhisvoice.

“Let. Her. Go.”

It’s low. Deadly. And familiar enough that my knees almost buckle.

The grip on me falters. One guy turns—too slow.

Damien is on him like a predator, slamming him into the car so hard the door caves. The other guy curses, tries to run—only to get caught by Damien’s fist.

I stagger back, heart racing, as Damien towers over them, breathing hard.

“Touch her again,” he growls, “and I’ll fucking kill you.”

I stand there, frozen. I stumble backward, nearly falling, gasping for air as both men scramble away.

Damien doesn’t chase. He just stands there, breathing hard, watching as the car peels out with a screech, leaving tire marks on the pavement.

For a second, all I hear is my own ragged breathing.

Damien turns to me, chest heaving. “Are you hurt?”

I shake my head, throat too tight to speak.

He’s here. He came for me.

And God help me, I’ve never felt safer—or more terrified—than I do right now.

“What the hell…Damien? What—what are you doing here?”

His jaw tics, but he doesn’t answer. Just stares at me like I’m the only thing holding him tethered right now.

“Are you following me?” My voice cracks. I’m shaking so badly I can barely speak.

His gaze softens—but only for a second. “You’re not safe here.”

My stomach drops. “What?”

“You have to come with me.”

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