It was Natalya. She knew Evie was scared. But she didn’t know where Evie was. She hadn’t told anyone about going to a different bar. She hadn’t thought there would be a need.
She’d just answered the call when she noticed she wasn’t alone in the alley. A big man wearing sunglasses and a mean expression stood a few feet from the door. When he saw her, he put a finger to his earpiece.
“Target is in the alley.”
Target. She was a target. And they’d planned for this. They’d set up by the exits in case she tried to escape. Sam may not have known they would be this thorough, but Evie should have. Varro didn’t take half-measures.
She started back towards the door but didn’t make it more than a few steps before the man grabbed her. She dropped the phone as he put an arm around her neck and a hand over her mouth. She screamed against his palm and clawed at him, fighting to get free.
She wouldn’t let this happen. She couldn’t go back to Varro. She’d rather die than feel his hands on her again.
Where was Flea? He’d been moving towards their table when she went into the bar. He should be right behind her. Maybe those two men by the van had stopped him. Or delayed him, at least. Maybe he wouldn’t make it to the alley in time.
The realization that help might not be coming made her fight harder. She bit the man’s palm, and he shifted so he could muffle her with his sleeved arm rather than his hand.
He started half-carrying, half-dragging her towards the mouth of the alley as the black van screeched to a halt by the curb. A man jumped out of the driver’s side and quickly opened the vehicle's side door. He looked grim. Unfeeling and professional.
They were just like the guards Varro had working security at his estate. Brutal men. Monsters, no better than the vampires.
The man got her into the van, holding her forcefully as the driver made to close the door on them. It was already sliding shut when there was a loud thump, and the driver cursed.
“Rotten moves, fucker,” a familiar voice said. “Your guys cut up my face. If I didn’t heal fast, I would be offended.”
The door slid open, revealing Flea. There was a deep cut on his cheek, and he was leaning awkwardly to one side. Blood had stained his shirt red.
“Another fucker. Fantastic.” He hopped into the van, punching the man who held Evie in the face. The man’s grip loosened, and she clambered away.
“Get out of here!” Flea yelled at her as he whaled on the man who’d held her.
Evie fell out of the van. The driver was groaning, but he was still standing. From the alley, the same two men who had been by the street rushed towards them. They both looked bloody. Like their faces had met Flea’s fists more than a few times.
She started to run, but the driver caught her almost immediately. He dragged her back, and rather than attempt the van again, where Flea was still turning a man into mincemeat, he pushed Evie into the alley. One of the other men caught her.
“Hold her down while we deal with this!” The driver pulled out a knife and jumped into the van. The man who’d caught her pushed her down on the ground.
Evie’s hands and chin scraped against the asphalt. Before she could try to get away, the man was on top of her. He grabbed her arms, pinning them down. His weight pressed against her back, and then his mouth was by her ear.
“Stop fighting. It’ll be over soon.”
The words made her freeze. Not just stiffen, butfreeze. She was paralyzed. She couldn’t move.
It was all too familiar. A heavy body on hers. Cruel, violent fingers digging into her skin. A man’s groin pressing against her from behind. And then those words.
How many times had she heard those words whispered in her ear? Sometimes said softly. Sometimes cruelly. No matter how they sounded, they were horrifying.
Her mind went blank. Her body stopped feeling anything. Even the fear vanished as Evie left herself behind because her mind knew feeling nothing was better than feeling what was about to happen.
She wasn’t there. She was far away. Her body was a husk that terrible things happened to. To dissociate from the present wasn’t a choice. It was a practiced survival mechanism she had no control over.
She had no idea how much time passed. She wasn’t aware of anything. She didn’tfeelanything. She couldn’t. It would be too awful if she did.
Weight was pulled off her. There was a thumping sound of flesh against flesh. Someone cursed and then called out. There was the sound of an engine starting and then a car driving away.
“Bastards!” someone yelled. If Evie had been present, she would have recognized it as Flea’s voice. Right then, she didn’t recognize anything at all.
Someone touched her. She didn’t react. She didn’t even feel it.
“You alright?” Flea asked.
