Page 103 of Precious Legacy
I kick and flail, trying everything I can to get out of his hold. Digging my heels into the floor is near impossible since the damn floorboards are worn so thin that there’s nothing to grip onto. I can’t kick my shoes off because of the damn zips on my boots and there’s nothing in the vicinity that I can use as a weapon. I only have my strength—which isn’t much right now—and self defense. So, I do the only thing I can.
Blindly, I throw my elbow out. I don’t aim, I just throw. It catches him off guard, giving me enough time to throw another fist, since bucking him off my body is proving too hard in my state.
Prescott grunts as I catch his jaw in an effort to force some distance between us. His head snaps sideways and for a split second, I think he might be reconsidering his next move. But when his face turns back to mine, his anger is replaced with something feral; something dangerous and uncaged.
His hands grip my throat, my body pinned to the hard wood beneath me. I gasp and cough, choking on nothing as spots dance through my vision. Panic sets in as he tightens his hold on my throat.
“What’re you doing here, gorgeous?” a tall guy asks as he approaches me.
I back away carefully, instantly regretting coming here. But I just couldn’t deal with how Roman and I left things, or the fact that he’s choosing the mafia over me. I thought we were in a good place. He promised he wouldn’t leave me, and he’s doing just that. He’s running like a goddamn coward, unable to keep his word.
The Ravenite is still pumping out tunes and the road that sits between me and the club feels too far away. My heart pounds against my chest as I glance between the three guys stalking me like prey. I reach into the bag, only the thing I’m searching for isn’t there.
Shit.
I never go anywhere without it. Not just because Roman gave it to me, but because it’s the one thing that could save me, especially right now.
“Want to have some fun?” another guy smirks, his blonde hair flapping in the cool breeze. He has dark eyes, the color of shadows that you want to hide from. His lips are curled into a sinister smirk as he backs me against the wall to the alley.
Panic wraps around my throat as I glance out into the street, but it’s late; too late for anyone to see us and too quiet for anyone to intervene. Not even Baz is at his regular spot guarding the door, which means he must be handling some other shit.
“No,” I snap. “And if you touch me, I’ll make sure you regret it.” I raise my fists defensively, recalling everything I’ve learned so far from Roman and my Aunt Lexie. While I’m not a professional, I’ve been able to get myself out of a few difficult holds. But that was one person, and right now I’m staring at three, hoping they heed my warning.
They all burst out laughing, one even pressing a hand against the wall as he bends at the waist and clutches his stomach.
“Wow!” the third guy chuckles. His eyes crinkle at the corners, and there’s a softness to them that is oddly attractive. He’s more muscular than the others, with broad shoulders that make him look like he’s carrying carpets, and he looks like he carries himself well. Not well enough though if he’s preying on innocent women outside a nightclub, though.
He swipes a hand through his brown hair. The action looks so harmless, yet the way his gaze darkens has me uncertain. “I enjoy challenges.”
My brows furrow, but I don’t get the chance to respond as I’m slammed against the wall by somebody, my brain feeling like it’s shattering into a million pieces. My vision goes red, and not in the angry sense. Hot liquid gushes over my eyes, and I press hard with my sleeve to stop the blood, but it’s not enough.
My body tilts and explosive agony crashes through it from all angles. My head, my arms, my ribs and stomach. I whimper and cry, but a hand cups my mouth, silencing any sound. Another set of hands pin my wrists against the ground and I try so hard to scream that I feel as if my chest might cave with pain.
Air whips at my thighs as my jeans are torn from my body. Shock is the only thing keeping me alert.
Or so I think.
Before I can protest about what I know is going to happen, I’m crashing into more pain. My body is pounded with fists and feet until I’m boneless and numb.
“Shit,” the guy above me panics. “Do you know who this is?”
“Who the fuck cares, just do it!”
The fear of dying is always a motivator, but how you harness that fear is something not everyone has the luxury of understanding. My aunt taught me so much, but the one thing I’ll always remember is when you think you’ve got nothing left, that’s when fear changes you.
I try to think of everything I’ve learned from Lexie; from chokeholds to being pinned down. Prescott doesn’t have shit on my aunt when it comes to fighting. His aim is clearly to kill. Mine is to survive.
Letting one hand fall away, I slide it over the hardwood. My vision is impaired, but I don’t need it to know what’s just within my reach. My lungs ache as I try to hold on a little longer.Just long enough.
I try to reach out further, until my arm aches and it feels like my fingers are being pulled from my limb. Tears stream down my face, but I don’t stop, not until the tips of my fingers brush against lethal coldness.
Bang.
Blood sprays my face as my ears ring.
For a moment, time stands still. It’s almost in slow motion how everything plays out; like I’m not really in the room at all. I’m somewhere else, disassociated from what the hell justhappened. I freeze, eyes wide as Prescott’s body drops on top of mine and the coppery tang of blood drips into my mouth.
I can hear footsteps, but I don’t know where they’re coming from.
