Page 283 of Vicious Saint
Oh my God.
This man is going to kidnap me.
Real deal shove into a van, blindfolded, then kill you kinda kidnapping.
The fuck he is, Montgomery! Pull your shit together.
Fight or flight kicks in, and I dig my heels into the concrete, thrashing in his arms like a bloodthirsty shark on the way to the van. All while scratching, pulling, and slapping any part of his body in an attempt to subdue him.
It slows us, but doesn’t stop us, and now that we’re at the side of the van, I’m left with one hail mary before he gets me inside.
The way the asshole is huffing, puffing, and cursing makes it pretty clear he did not expect the fight he’s getting, something I plan to use to my full advantage inthree, two, one…
He hauls me up to toss me feet first into the van, but only makes it halfway when I jam my feet against the bottom of it, using every aching muscle to kick off.
It works, and in seconds we’re flying back first onto the ground.
I’m jolted, but thanks to dickhead cushioning the fall, it’s not enough to stop me from rolling off him and jumping to my feet.
Then…I’m running.
So fast I don’t see the pothole in front of me until I’m tripping over it, careening to the ground with a heavy thud. My jeans rip on impact, along with the skin on my knees.
“Fucking, fuck!” I curse, rising on wobbly legs, ignoring the burning pain as I take off again.
I dodge dumpsters, rats, even jump over a damn cat, all in an attempt to make it to freedom.
A.K.A. the loud, busy ass street.
Throwing a glance over my shoulder, I find the guy moving in fast, something that wouldn’t be happening if this damn city fixed potholes like they’re supposed to.
“Someone help, please!” I belt out a cry when his footsteps grow louder, louder, until they’re deafening, and I’m convinced for sure my efforts were for nothing.
Please, please, please, feet. Don’t fail me now.
Lights from the street are about four car lengths away, but four cars too many compared to the man I feel closing in behind me.
The truth hits me hard at this moment:
Telling me I’m about to get taken. Most likely killed.
Never see the people I love ever again.
Never seehimagain.
Defeat appears as a sob ripping past my throat, the only fight left in me is to keep running and brace for impact.
But…the impact never comes.
At least not for me.
The loud thud of a body hitting the ground has an already horrified me jumping out of my skin and into the nearest brick wall, rolling to a stop along it.
I whip around, finding my assailant half hidden behind the side of a dumpster, with a maniacal Saint raining down hell on what I can only assume is his face.
“Saint!” I call out, my feet moving on their own accord to get to him, but I’m stopped by the sound of a masculine voice hissing from my right.
“Signorina!”
