Page 135 of Dominance

“No!” I scream, hammering my elbow into his chest with a resounding thud.

I might as well have punched a brick wall.

It did, however, get me out of his grip long enough to back up, make a run for the door. Two steps into my escape I’m launched across the cabin, my back on fire with the agony of his boot print.

“Gloria!” Sandra yells, rushing the massive brute, swinging a bottle at his head. He swats her aside like a ragdoll, shattering one of the blacked-out windows. Leaving Sandra in a crumpled heap on the leather bench.

“Sandra!” I cry, dragging myself back to my feet slowly, painfully.

Her lack of response blasts through me, terror flushing my body with adrenaline. Reaching for the nearest object behind me, I cut my finger on the broken champagne flute, the prick of the razor glass barely phasing me.

“Don’t make this harder than it needs to be,” the gorilla growls, his voice disturbingly calm.

“It’s my fucking party, and I’ll only die if I want to!” I grit out right as he reaches for me again, ramming the glass full force into his face.

“Ah! You cunt!” he screams, stumbling back, tripping over a purple leather handbag that fell out of the closet on the chaotic drive here.

I take my chance, dashing for the door, scooping up the bag and jamming my fingers into the door, cranking it open with every bit of my panicked strength. Outside it’s dark, the only sound I can make out is the lap of water nearby.

Behind me, our would-be assassin is gaining his feet, stomping after me.

If I can lead him away from Sandra, maybe I can get the drop on him, keep him from hurting her long enough for?—

Ten feet into my mad dash, something clips me in the shoulder, sending me toppling into the pavement, roaring as gravel gashes into my knees. A rushing hiss of blood fills my ears, dizzying, disorienting.

I have to get up, I have to?—

A hand clamps down on my ankle.

No!

Kicking, screaming, and clawing, I ram my fists against the arms and chest smashing me into the ground, pinning my legs. My arms jerk up in front of my face just in time to take the brunt of a devastating blow from my assailant, but the impact stuns me, knocks the wind out of me.

Gasping, blinded, I brace for the end, for the final blow.

He backs off, gravel crunching as he stands.

I hear him huffing and puffing, growling with every breath.

Just before I hear the click of a gun hammer.

“Not that you’ll be alive to tell him, but this is a gift to your father. Courtesy of Vito Carlote.”

A feral scream is the only warning he gets before a ball of bleeding bitch latches onto his back, tearing at his bloody face, stabbing into his chest with a dick-shaped party favor. Sandra bites down on his ear as he reaches back to throw her off of him and I watch in horror as he flings her body over his shoulder, sending Sandra soaring ten feet through the air, a trail of blood spraying behind her.

“God dammit!” he roars, slapping a hand to his ravaged ear.

The ogre glares down at me, his teeth bared, blood and spittle frothing from his lips. His hand drops from his ear, reaching for a blade tucked into his belt.

He’s going to mutilate me.

Torture me before he kills me.

In that second that lasts for minutes to my perception, I see another face, someone else’s eyes. Calm. Steady. Always steady.

Adriano.

I wish he was here.

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