Oh shit, oh shit,oh shit!
Run.
Fucking run.
“Let go of me!” I shriek, trying to tear my arm free from his grasp.
When that doesn’t work, I slam my fist into his face, just like Nitro taught me last summer.
His head snaps to the side, and he loosens his hold for a second, but not long enough for me to get free. He slams me against the wall behind him, my hip and back taking the brunt. All I can think is, please don’t hurt my baby.
He pins my arms over my head so I can’t move, his hand roaming over my belly like he’s entitled to touch me.
Fuck that.
I slam my knee into his groin with every ounce of strength I have. My bump makes it hard, but I know I’ve struck when he’s yells, and bends over, clutching his balls.
“You bitch,” he rasps. “You fucking assaulted me. You’re done for now.”
I don’t care about repercussions, or how ‘done for’ I am.
I rush for the door.
I’m almost through it when I’m dragged back by my shirt. I let out a cry as the material stretches tight around me and then tears at the shoulder.
I don’t think. I twist hard, knee him, claw at his face like I’m possessed. He screams as I catch him close to his eye, and then I’m free.
I bolt, adrenaline drowning my veins. My belly heavy, I run down the hall straight for the stairwell. I don’t wait for the elevator. I’m too scared he’ll come after me. I hit the door at speed, bursting through it and gripping the banister as I move down the steps as fast as I dare.
Reception is empty when I burst into the foyer. There’s no sign of security, and it takes too long to get the front door open.
When I finally stumble out onto the street, relief floods me.
Crying, barely able to speak or think, all I know is I need to get somewhere safe. And that safe place is always Casey. Cupping my belly, I flag down the first cab I see and tumble into the back.
“Take me to the Crimson Sinners’ clubhouse. It’s off Bridge Avenue.”
He stares at me over his shoulder, taking in the disheveled state of me, then he turns forward and drives.
My head is pounding and my throat is so dry my tongue is a stone in my mouth. I wish I had my phone so I could call Casey, but I fled with nothing.
My insides are knotted, my fear thick in my throat. Our daughter is moving inside me— a good sign that she didn’t get hurt in that attack.
I protected her.
Bile coats my throat.
I can’t stop shaking, can’t drag in more than shallow breaths either.
I’m not safe.
I’m not safe.
I don’t relax until the cab pulls up to the curb outside the clubhouse. The driver turns, waiting for payment. Shit. I don’t have anything on me.
“One of the guys will pay. I just need to get them.”
I open the door and stumble out, searching behind the fence for anyone, but of course there’s no one around.
