Page 116 of Caveman (Wild Men 1)

I’m hurrying along, anxious to get home even if I don’t want to face Mom and the truth. I’m walking as fast as my heels allow me, looking down at my phone, at Matt’s number.

To call or not to call?

And tell him what—that the rumors were right all this time? That I’m not just a bastard, but the lovechild of the douchebag he works for, and half-sister to the monster who may or may not be making our life hell?

No, I should talk to Mom first, confront her about this. See her reaction, see if she’ll admit it’s true or tell me it was a lie.

Two more steps and a hand slaps over my mouth, cutting off my air. A thick arm wraps around my neck, hauling me backward. I gasp, my lungs seizing, my muscles freezing, my knees locking in shock.

My heels drag on the sidewalk. My phone drops from my nerveless fingers to the ground.

Oh shit.

The words spin in a loop inside my mind as my attacker stops and tightens his arm around my neck like an iron bar, unrelenting, not letting me draw breath.

“You,” he hisses in my ear and I shudder, “will pay for fucking him. And he will pay for what he’s done. You will all fucking pay.” At least that’s what I think he says. His voice is muffled, not very clear. Yet the words that come next hit me like a punch. “You stick with him, bitch, you die. Everyone around him dies.”

I jerk in his hold, trying to free myself. He’s going to kill me and ditch my body in a field somewhere for the

crows to find.

God, please… not like this.

“Stay. Away. From him.” Suddenly his arm is gone from my neck. “If you as much as open your mouth to shout when I release you, I’ll shoot you.”

Holy shit, is he packing a gun? Is he bluffing?

It strikes me that the voice is somehow familiar, even muffled and distorted. Was it Ross? Who was it?

I’m shaking so bad I can hardly stay upright as he removes his hand from my mouth. Tears are running down my cheeks. I hadn’t even noticed.

He moves away from me, a light scrunch of a shoe on the concrete, a rustle.

Come on, Octavia. Turn. You have to see who he is.

Before I lose my last shred of courage, I look over my shoulder and spot a tall guy with a ski mask over his face jumping over a fence a few houses down, vanishing in the shadows of trees.

I stumble to where my phone is lying on the sidewalk, the plastic casing cracked. I brush it over my black dress, leaving a dusty streak. My hand is shaking so bad I almost drop it again.

Jesus. Can’t believe what just happened. Taking stock of my body, I know I’m not hurt, but I’m so shaken up I can’t think what to do next.

What does one do in such a case?

Call the police.

And Matt.

Oh God, I have to warn Matt.

Chapter Thirty-Three

Matt

Mary is resisting my tug toward the truck, and Cole is whining about a kitten and rescuing the kitten and fuck my life.

I swoop him up in my arms, and pull Mary along. “Octavia needs us. Come on now.”

She said she’s fine. She’s at home now, with her family, and she only wanted to warn me—that someone attacked her, and threatened her to keep away from me.

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