Page 45 of Scarred Savages
I need to get them to shift positions. Just slightly.
“You know what’s sad?” I ask, my voice suddenly calmer. Both of them pause, suspicious of my tone change. “You have to force females because none would touch you willingly. Must be hard, being so pathetic.”
Mike’s face contorts with rage. “You fucking—”
“I mean, look at you,” I continue, tilting my head toward the vase, trying to make them adjust their positions. “Tiny dick, massive ego. Classic compensation.”
It works. Mike steps closer, grabbing my face roughly. “I’ll show you tiny—”
Scarface shifts his stance to give Mike better access, loosening his grip on my legs just enough. I gather every ounce of strength I have left and kick out sideways, my foot connecting with the pedestal.
The vase teeters for a heart-stopping moment, then crashes to the floor with a sound like the world ending. Ceramic shards explode across the corridor.
Both men jump at the noise, their grips loosening just enough. I slam my head forward, connecting with Mike’s nose. Bloodspurts, and he stumbles back, howling. Scarface turns to look at the shattered vase, and I bring my knee up hard between his legs.
He doubles over, cursing, his grip releasing me completely.
I slide down the wall, my legs too weak to hold me. The edges of my vision are fading to darkness. Too many hits to the head—too much adrenaline. My body is shutting down.
Footsteps echo down the corridor. Mike is scrambling to zip his pants, blood still pouring from his nose.
“What the hell is going on here?” A deep voice booms from the end of the hall.
Security.
Finally.
My vision tunnels further, darkness creeping in from all sides. The last thing I see is a uniformed figure rushing toward us, radio in hand, calling for backup.
“Help,” I try to say, but my mouth won’t form the word. Instead, I taste blood and everything goes dark.
What the… Where am I?
The voices fade, the hallway dissolves, and I’m gasping on the gym floor, sweat and tears mixing as the present slams back into me.
It takes a second to remember.
Ethan pinned me.
The flashback.
The world snaps back into focus, and I see the guys crowded around me, worry written all over their faces.
“Luna?” Ethan says, his voice panicked. “I didn’t mean to—”
“Give her some room to breathe,” Hudson says, his tone calmer but no less concerned.
I push myself to a sitting position. My heartbeat is still racing.
“Luna,” Oli says, his voice gentle.
“I’m fine,” I say, but my voice shakes as I say it.
“We can stop,” Ethan suggests.
“We’re not stopping,” I insist, staggering to my feet. They’re all staring at me, but I don’t care. I need this. I need to shake off the memory. “I want to go again.”
Axel looks concerned. “Are you sure? You looked like—”
