Page 48 of Deadly Sacrifice

Not today, you motherfucker.

I follow them, racing to catch up and ignoring all the eyes on us. Seems Marky-boy has gathered quite the audience. “Hey, are you fucking deaf? Let her go!” I shout, grabbing his other arm to stop them from getting any further. Who knows what he might do if he got her alone right now? She’s turned him down and embarrassed him in public. I really don’t think a small-dicked guy like him would let that go very easily.

Mark spins around and backhands me so fast that I couldn’t have prepared myself if I wanted to. Pain explodes in my face before I’ve even fully registered his movement. I drop to the floor as the sharp metallic taste of blood floods my mouth. My vision swims, my ears ring, and it’s as if all my muscles have gone lax, leaving me in a puddle on the ground.

I can’t focus on anything but the throbbing, achy heat in my face.

Until I hear Asher yell, “Creed, drop it!”

I blink through the fog in my mind, peering up at the scene before me. That hit must have thrown me into some kind of Twilight Zone, because what I’m seeing doesn’t make sense in my muddled brain.

Asher has one arm around Griffin’s neck and the other around his torso, trying to hold him back while Griffin struggles to get free. Griffin is easily the biggest of their trio, but somehow he doesn’t get very far. Asher’s wide green eyes are pointed at Creed, who’s standing behind Mark, holding a fucking knife to his throat.

Holy shit.

Asher grunts with the effort it’s taking to hold Griffin back. “Calm down, man,” he says to Creed — or maybe Griffin. I can’t tell which one of them is more pissed off right now. If Griffin got free, he might help Creed slaughter Mark right here in the middle of the cafeteria.

Creed grits his teeth, breathing deeply as he and Asher have some kind of standoff. Then he leans a little closer to Mark’s ear, his grip steady on the knife. “You touch her again, and it’ll be your guts spilling out on the floor,” he threatens, digging the knife in just enough to draw a thin trail of blood across Mark’s neck. Creed flicks his dark, wild eyes around the room, narrowing his gaze at Asher before he finds me. I’m still crumpled on the floor, sitting up and taking slow breaths while I try to keep the room from spinning. The moment Creed focuses on me, he pulls the knife away from Mark, shoves him out of the way, and strides over to me.

I hold a hand out when he gets too close, murmuring, “Don’t.” Licking my bloodied lips, I take a deep breath and then stand on my own. I stare at Creed, trying to find some middle ground between the guy who took me on an amazing date, the guy who flaunted his next catch right in my face, and the guy who just came to my defense with a knife. Which side of him is the real Creed? Or are they all fractured parts of the man standing before me?

I don’t know, and my mind is too muddled to worry about it right now.

He takes another step toward me, hands out as if he’s going to grab me. I back up before he can, and even though he has no right, he looks wounded by my silent rejection. My throat is dry as I swallow down a million things I want to say to him. I shake my head, murmuring, “Just don’t. I-I need time to think.”

“Ember, I just want to get you out of here,” he pleads softly, trying once more to gather me in his arms.

I take another step back, running into someone else and nearly pissing myself. This is way too much excitement for one day. When I spin around, some of the tension in my body deflates. Griffin is frowning down at me, and ever so carefully, he lifts a hand and cups my cheek, swiping away some of the blood on my lips. His crystal blue eyes are a storm of emotion that I can’t quite read, but no matter what else is going on, I know he’s the one I can trust the most right now.

“Will you walk me home?” I ask him, loud enough for Creed and Asher to hear.

Griffin winds his arm around my shoulders, nodding down at me, and then motioning for Annie to join us.

I feel like the worst person ever, because for a moment, I had forgotten she was in the middle of this fucking mess. The second Mark hit me, all I knew was my own pain.

I hold my hand out for her, frowning at the tear tracks down her pale cheeks. “Come on. Griffin will get us back safe.” I peer over at Creed as he stands beside Mark, both men looking about ten shades past furious. “Creed will make sure Mark doesn’t mess with you again,” I say, holding Creed’s gaze. “It’s the least he can do.”

Creed presses his lips into a thin line, offering me a small nod.

Annie sniffles, walking over to me and taking my hand. Griffin releases me, even though I wish he wouldn’t, and then he leads the two of us out of the cafeteria while everyone looks on and whispers about the scene that just unfolded.

26

Asher

My fist swings through the air with ease, my aim true and my feet steady. It’s not my first fight. Not my second or third, even. I’ve become a bit addicted, really. These sparring matches in the woods are probably the only thing that keeps me on a leash when I feel seconds away from murder.

And that’s more often than not, lately.

My knuckles split against my opponent’s teeth, but I don’t even feel the pain. All I feel is relief. Blow after blow land, blood flies, and the guy I’m fighting finally goes limp, stumbling to the leaf-covered floor.

“Fuck, Ash, alright!” one of my frat brothers shouts from the sidelines. “You’re gonna kill him. Ease up.”

I curl my lips up. Fury and disgust collide with the power and sickening high I get after a fight. Staring at Mark’s beaten body, I tilt my head and crouch before him. “You ever put your hands on any woman again, Mark, and I won’t stop until you’re dead. That is, if I get to you before Creed.” I shrug, like it doesn’t make any difference to me. “If he finds you first, you’re in for a much slower, more painful end.”

The warning isn’t simply for Prudence since he hit her yesterday. I have a thing about men hurting women. Shocker, right, since I’m committed to ruining Prudence’s life? But even if I’m a dick in the worst ways possible, I’d never put my hands on her like that. I can hurt her without backhanding her like a fucking pussy throwing a tantrum. It’ll be more satisfying, even, because I’ll have ripped apart her will, her strength, and her mental shields without ever laying a finger on her in violence.

But until I can achieve that and prove to my dad that I’m not such a fuckup, I need her around. And if Mark keeps going after her before I can break her, then she may just run off and I’ll be out a little redhead to torture.

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