Page 47 of H E R

“I warned you to stay back,” his comrade laughs.

The large penguin that stayed back against the wall storms toward us, then punches me in the gut. The air leaves my lungs, a shooting pain gathers in the pit of my stomachand travels up to my neck, twisting my insides. I cough, sputtering and spitting violently, desperate to catch my breath.

“Cover her mouth, and her eyes, too.”

My eyes sting from the tears threatening to spill, but I refuse to give them permission. Be it tears of physical or emotional pain, they won’t see me cry. The only thing they can take from me is safe in my trailer. Jasmin and Jule–as long as they’re okay, I would survive this.

Fuck these pricks.

Rough hands hold my face still as I snarl and bite like a rabid animal, and then duct tape is forced over my open mouth. Next, they toss a black cloth over my head.

“Pussies,” I muffle the insult. They understand.

Someone’s fist connects with my temple and a million white specs invade my vision, even behind closed lids. I catch the sound of ringing, and at first, I think it’s just me. But I quickly realize it’s a phone, and it’s on speaker. I force my breathing to quiet down, but it’s difficult. I’m riled up, and my muscles beg for me to jump and toss the chair over to writhe on the floor crazily in an attempt to break free from my restraints. I can feel the cover over my face move back and forth from my forceful breaths.

“Well, hello, Noah boy. We have your girl.”

I freeze.

“Let her go. She’s got nothing to do with this.”

The penguin laughs. “That’s not how this works. We gave you a chance to work for us. It was an opportunity, and you fucked up. So this is how it’s going to go–bring us what you owe, or we’ll take the pretty lady as payment.”

Noah responds, but I can’t hear what he says. I’m yelling at myself; my mind pounds with the sound of my screams. How fucking dare he! Noah works for Vork?

No wonder he never agreed whenever I wanted to pursue the crook. If ever I received a good lead, he would make up some shit to keep me from turning up. Had he gotten with me for the sole purpose of keeping me from gathering enough information on his boss?

No. It can’t be. Noah and I have been friends since we were children. And he’s been obsessed with me for years. There had to be another explanation. But at this moment, I don’t give a shit. He fucked up by putting my family in danger. He worked for the very man that authorized my parents’ murder—fuck up number two.

Someone’s hand travels down the center of my breasts and begins to lift my shirt, and I brace myself. My tummy crashes against my ribs in an involuntary move to keep awayfrom whoever is touching me. A whimper escapes me. As much as I want to be strong and not have these fuckers witness my fear, I can’t manage the idea of their filthy hands on me and remain a statue. Grain-like hands move over my stomach to the fabric of my bra and then they tug it down roughly. Fingers squeeze and aggressively tug at my nipple, and I squirm in my chair, sickened by their touch.

A voice cackles and I recognize it. The cokehead I head-butted is seeking his revenge. I flail and he laughs again. “Not so tough now, are you?”

I thrash in my restraints. The fire of their bite a distant caress when compared to the man’s hands feeling me up. My mind races with scenes of my retribution and my blood boils. I jerk my thighs up, but they barely move; they’re held down by the tight rope at my ankles.

A deafening crash abruptly drags me from my wallowing, and I move my head trying to soak in the noise. Someone yells a warning, but then they slump to the ground near me. My toes feel a warm liquid accumulating beneath them and I wriggle them. It’s thick, and I instantly know what it is.

Blood.

The yelling continues, and it’s followed by grunts, punching, and bodies falling. A snarling animal growls and gnashes on flesh. I’m triggered to bolt up and ready myself for a fight, but I’m stuck, blind, and can’t speak.

Through the tape, I try to yell, “help me,” but it’s muffled and garbled.

Minutes later, it’s quiet, and a piercing ringing replaces my thoughts. Someone walks slowly and deliberately toward me and I freeze, my hands straighten, and I move my wrists, desperately rubbing them together to free them. I bounce in my chair and move my thighs up and down in an attempt to break away from the rope binding them to the chair legs.

The chair shifts suddenly and I brace myself for the impact of a fall, but I waver in the air instead. It hovers midair and then straightens again. I can feel someone’s presence; the heat of their body forces my muscles to relax and my thoughts ease to one single realization.

The black pillowcase is slowly lifted up and off my face, and I blink up at him.

I want to scream, but his black eyes cradle me, soothing me, and I slump in the chair. He reaches to my mouth and gently strips the tape off my lips. He looks me over, his eyes trailing over my face and body, searching. He moves behind me and cuts the remainder of the rope from my wrists and then my ankles.

I stand, and he’s in front of me again. I’m barely aware of the men on the ground, some bleeding from their bullet wounds. I just seehim.

“Dylan,” I finally breathe, and I collide into him.

My body reacts on instinct, drawn to him the way a starving animal is to nourishment after weeks of foraging for scraps.

He wraps me in his arms, his hands crush me, and it pieces my soul back together. I trail my hands up his chest and wrap my arms around his neck. My brain is still trying to decide if I’m hallucinating.

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