Page 69 of The Truths We Seek

One.

Two.

Three.

I jump up, causing him to startle, and his eyes darken as the smile on his face twists. “And what a pretty little mouse you are. Did Tina bring me a toy to play with?”

“You fucking wish, asshole.” The vitriol in my voice would make Tommy proud. “You picked the wrong people to mess with. Tina is my person now. You should leave.”

He laughs, and I swear it’s like standing in front of Trent. A vision of him flashes in front of me, but then I’m back, still facing off with Matthew.

“Oh she’s feisty. I do love to break my toys.”

I roll my eyes, maneuvering myself to put the island between us as he slowly approaches. This is a game I know. He’ll move slowly, then pounce.

The upside of spending my life with monsters? I know how they work.

He twists at a noise outside and I see the gun tucked in the back of his pants. Fuck, I hope that noise was Bruno. Or just anyone coming to help. I am not equipped to handle this asshole with a gun.

Coming here alone was stupid, but what else could I have done?

The guys are going to kill me if I survive this.

When no further sound distracts him, he turns back to me, but I’ve already cleared the room, my back to the bedroom door. If I can keep myself between him and Tina until help arrives, then that’s a win for me.

Just as long as he doesn’t consider me a threat enough to pull that fucking gun.

“Oh, you are a pretty little toy,” he croons, grabbing his crotch.

I audibly gag and his face turns thunderous. “Abusive assholes don’t do it for me.”

“Sounds like you need teaching some fucking manners,” he growls as he crosses the room toward me. I brace myself for the hit that’s likely coming, but he grabs me by the throat instead of hitting me.

That I wasn’t expecting.

He doesn’t squeeze, just holds me, his eyes lighting up like he’s enjoying the power play of knowing he could cut off my air. I try to slow the panic raging through me and remember what Hunter taught me.

This close, I can do some damage. So I step into him, which he wasn’t expecting. His grip falters and I punch him as hard as I can in the throat. He releases me, grasping his throat, and bends forward. Using the movement to my advantage, I step forward and lift my knee as hard as I can into his nose.

The crunching sound gives me brief satisfaction as he stumbles, and without even thinking, I pull the gun from his waistband before he stumbles away from me.

It’s nothing fancy, and not a gun I’ve handled before, but I flick off the safety and level it at him. “You should leave.”

My voice is cold, flat, steady, like I’m not fucking terrified.

Let’s not play the hero again, Quinn.

“You shouldn’t aim a gun if you aren’t willing to use it,” he spits as he straightens, blood still pouring from his nose.

“Who said I’m not willing to use it?” I quirk a brow and tilt my head. He doesn’t know me, and yet he still underestimates me. What the actual fuck is wrong with men? I have a gun pointed at him and he still thinks he can win.

His face twists with anger and he clenches his fists. “Stupid little bitch.”

He dives for me, and without a second thought I pull the trigger.

Once.

Twice.

---