Page 18 of Defiant
Part of me hopes he’s raised an alarm but another, more jaded part of me doesn’t want Black to associate him with me at all. That wouldn’t be good for Jonah because there’s a gleam in Black’s eyes even when he glares at me, a sort of pulsing want that I recognize, because despite myself I feel it too. There’s a bolt of intensity between us that sizzles—a feeling that I don’t want to identify because I shouldn’t feel anything but hatred and caution where he’s concerned.
I tussle with the self-disgust that wants to rear its ugly head and tell me how stupid I am. I don’t have time for it. Self-pity has to take a back seat because I need to figure out my next steps. What I need to do ismaimAlpha Maddox. I need to escape.
My eyes scan my surroundings. I want to disassemble one of these shelves and take a screw to his fucking balls. But I’ve got nothing but my hands to work with and they’re fucking strapped together. The window has some glass … if I can’t escape, can I bust it and use a shard to free myself and stab him?
If I do stab him and don’t slash deep enough or fast enough, it’s a death sentence … but the hair tingling on the back of my neck makes me think that I’m facing the reaper either way. Alphas don’t lock up wolves in their basements without the plan to hurt them badly.
I should know.
No. Not going there. Focus, Elena. Climb.
I blow out a slow breath through my nostrils and then wrap my hands around either side of a support post before stepping up onto the bottom shelf and testing whether it will hold my weight.
It’s just plywood and I brace myself as I lift my other foot off the ground, tensed and prepared to jump back. The shelf bows under my weight but doesn’t break, so I breathe a sigh of relief. I lean over far, so far that a good chunk of my upper body weight rests on the top shelf.
My gaze searches for cracks in the glass I can use. “Please, Moon Goddess, let there be a crack,” I whisper as I lean forward, stretching, and the edge of the wood bites at my stomach, the splinters as sharp as shifter teeth.
But my prayers go unanswered. The stupid window is double-paned perfection. Shit.
I slam both fists into the glass anyway, because my nerves squeeze me tight and the need to do something—anything—overcomes me. He’s going to come back and when he does, there will be hell to pay. That’s how these things work. Alphas, bad ones, take everything out on their betas. Frustration, disappointment, fury.
And while I’m not a beta wolf, I know for a fact that there’s no way my wolf is as strong as Black’s. I’ve only met her once but even so … I just know. I have two choices. Sit here and take it. Or fight. End it on my terms.
Gah, the thought clogs my throat but I don’t let it overtake me. I pound the window harder, making the glass shake in its sill, rocking my entire body back and forth to get better leverage so I can hit harder. When my fists simply skid along the smooth glass, I get angry. I lean forward onto my stomach and raise my feet to the second shelf, trying to give myself the ability to lean up and get a better angle. But with a creak and quake, the shelf under my feet collapses followed by the shelf I’m leaning on and I plummet backward to the hard cement ground.
By some miracle, I land on my feet but stumble back and scrape my back on the row of shelves behind me, the blow sharp enough to make me gasp in pain and heat lick up my spine.Fuck!Anger is the first emotion that pulses through me when I can breathe again.
The sight of the window sends a surge of broken fury through me because my only hope now gleams like a blue sapphire but it’s surrounded by jagged chunks of wood that dangle uselessly. There’s zero chance that I’ll be able to reach that window again.
The need to cry overwhelms me but when I glance at the ground, it’s quickly tackled by delight. One broken bit of shelf looks like a gorgeous, beautifully haggard wooden dagger. I lick my lips as I lean down to pick it up and golden triumph makes me giggle madly. Here it is. My unexpected advantage. Now, I just have to wait. I rise stiffly, my back starting to feel the effect of my fall and make my way over to stand behind the door.
I don’t wait long.
It’s only a few minutes before I hear the key kiss the lock.
This is it. My moment. “This is your one chance,” I whisper under my breath. But I’m disgusted to look down and notice my right hand, the one gripping my weapon, trembles. I tighten my grip, fighting panic that threatens to surge through me like a tidal wave. Flashes of memory flicker like a slide show before I quickly press the off button and absolutely refuse to think about the past.
Black’s deep, grumbling voice comes through the door in a muffled fashion as the knob turns and I watch it—every fiber of my being so focused on that door that I hardly hear him say, “Elena, you didn’t tell me the whole truth—” The door swings open and I leap forward, my heart screeching along with my mouth as I aim for Black’s stomach.
“I’m going to gut you!” I scream out my intentions as I thrust my arm forward and jab at him, but my makeshift weapon skips across his shirt, and I see an angry red streak appear instead of a deep puncture.Motherfucking dammit!I wrench back slightly and try again, pressing harder, frantic. But other than anoof, he’s a wall, he’s made of stone, impenetrable.
My resolve starts to crumble and familiar panic creeps around me like vines, tendrils spiraling up my legs, tossing off shoots and leaves and choking me as the vines grow thicker together until it’s hard for me to see. Hard to breathe. I start to pant.
A second later, Black’s hands form manacles around my wrists and he lifts me up until my feet dangle and my eyes are level with his own. His gaze is darker than his name. Between those lashes of his are twin orbs that are the gateway to my own personal hell.
I clutch my now-useless weapon in my hand as Black turns and exits the storage room in silence, me hanging in front of him, suspended like a marionette.
The bright light of the living space in the basement makes me squint, though blindness is the least of my problems. Cold sweat forms at the base of my spine.
“You tried to hurt me,” Alpha Black growls as he stomps across the room.
“No. I tried to kill you,” I snarl, kicking out, hoping I can land a hit to his balls and make him furious. Furious is better than calculating. It hurts more at first, but less in the long run.
But Black Maddox doesn’t become enraged. He just flips me around and clutches me back against his stomach for a second, my arms still lifted high above me, before he shoves me face-first onto a table with a dark chuckle.
Pain murmurs in my ear and I know things are just beginning. They’re going to get worse. Worse. Worse.
Bile coats the back of my throat.
