Page 8 of Before Broken Vows
She glances over her shoulder, hair whipping across her face, and nearly trips.
She veers toward the alley beside a bakery.
I cut the angle, fast and sharp.
By the time she reaches the narrow space between the buildings, I'm there.
Grabbing.
Pulling.
My hand locks around her wrist, yanking her to a brutal stop.
She cries out, twisting, but I'm already hauling her back, slamming her against the rough brick wall.
Not enough to hurt her.
Just enough to remind her who the fuck she's dealing with.
Her chest heaves. Her lips tremble.
My heart is racing, feeling like it's going to explode.
I stare at her, drinking in every goddamn piece I thought I'd forgotten.
The same wild hair. The same smooth face. The same beautiful mouth, trembling on the edge of words she's too afraid to speak.
"You have five seconds," I snarl. "To tell me why the fuck you're here."
4
STASSI
The brick wall scrapes against my back as Theo pins me. His grip on me is firm, maybe enough to bruise, but the pain barely registers against the storm of emotions in his eyes. Fury. Confusion. Something deeper that looks dangerously like hurt. It's worse than anything I imagined.
I can't speak. My voice is trapped somewhere between my racing heart and dry throat. This close, I can smell him, and it instantly unlocks memories I've tried my best to keep hidden. It's what used to cling to my skin after nights in his bed. His body radiates heat, and I hate how familiar it all feels even now.
"This was a mistake. I'm sorry," I say, shaking my head and looking down. "I—I should just go."
"What are you doing here?" he demands, his voice a low growl. "What does the note say you left on my car?"
"Nothing. Forget it," I try to move, but he won't let me.
"Bullshit," he says, moving in closer.
"Please, just let me go."
"No."
I can see there's no way out. And if I've come this far, under these circumstances, obviously whether I believe it now or not, he's the only one I can turn to.
"I—" The words stick. "I need your help."
His jaw muscle twitches. "Four years," he says bitterly. "Four fucking years of silence, and now you think I'd just roll over? Welcome you back like nothing happened?"
His hand tightens on my wrist, and I wince. The movement catches his attention, and something inside him shifts. He drops my wrist but places his palm against the wall beside my head, keeping me caged in, unable to move.
He's right. Dammit, he's right.
