Page 42 of War's Witch
But before I can reach for my phone, a rough shove sends me sprawling. I hit the floor hard, the impact jarring my bones. I cry out from the pain in my knees and elbow. Knowing I need to move, I force myself to crawl, to keep moving, even as heavy footsteps behind me get closer. The prick laughs, the sound going through me like nails on a chalkboard.
“You are mine now, bitch. Let’s see what is so special about this pussy, shall we?”
The stranger’s weight hits my back, making me scream, but he clamps a hand over my mouth, muting my cries for help.
“Oh no, cunt, we do not want anyone to disturb us now, do we?”
I grit my teeth, refusing to surrender to terror, every ounce of will focused on surviving.
Taking a deep breath, I slam my head back, hitting my target, making him howl in pain. His weight shifts off me enough so I can roll over, and I see blood running from his nose into his mouth, coating his teeth and giving him a more sinister look.
“You fucking bitch,” he snarls, baring his bloodied teeth.
I try to scramble away using the coffee table to help me up, but he catches me, his fist hitting its mark on my jaw, my body slamming against the table, breaking it. I cry out in pain as it ripples through my soul. Tears leak from my eyes, but I know that I have to keep fighting.
I will not let him win.
My body shakes with fear and determination to get away from this man, but he hits me again—pain like I have never felt before moves through my body.
The room spins, my stomach rolling violently. I taste blood, but I keep going, lashing out at him, hitting wherever I can before he pins my hands down. He grins down at me, his eyesso dark they scare me. It is like he is lost in what he is doing, his need to hurt me taking over.
A guttural sound rises from my throat, half sob, half snarl as I fight.
I twist my wrists left and right trying to break free, my vision blurry from tears and the hit he landed. I break free of one hold and I instantly reach for his face.
He howls in pain as I scratch and gouge at his skin. His palm connects with my cheek, stunning me for a second. Blinking, I lie there, his hands going to my throat and panic sets in, knowing that I am going to die tonight.
My fingers search for something, anything to hit him with. My coffee table is in pieces, the glass fruit bowl that I had there shattered along my carpet. With my oxygen depleted, I touch a chunk of wood from my broken coffee table.
With all the strength left in me, I swing blindly, adrenaline surging, the sickening crunch of impact echoing in my ears.
He stumbles off me, cursing, and for a split second, his grip loosens around my neck. I suck in much needed air.
Rolling over again, I scramble towards the door, lungs heaving, vision blurred with tears and sweat. My heart is beating so fast I fear going into cardiac arrest before I can get any help.
“I do not think so, you fucking cunt.”
He grips my hair, yanking it back and making me scream. Before he can lay a hit on me again, my front door swings open. I open my eyes, seeing the man I never thought I would see again.
Relief hits my drained body, before everything goes black.
Chapter
Twenty
WAR
Something is wrong. My body feels tight, like it is expecting something to happen. I am at the Rugged Skulls clubhouse, talking with Racer, Savage, and new member Crash, but I can't focus on what they’re saying. Their voices drone on, but an image of Cleo comes to mind. A restlessness crawls under my skin, and I clench my fists, knuckles pale.
Savage nudges me, his words muffled, concern flickering in his gaze.
“You okay, brother?”
I shake my head. “Something feels off.”
I scan the room but nothing and no one seems out of place.
“We haven’t heard from those fucks who sent you the photos. The prospect reported back that Cleo was safe.”
