Page 63 of A Touch Of Death

Anger churns in my stomach as fury rushes through my veins. No more will they steal all that matters in my life. My life is my own, and I will not be ruled by power-hungry monsters.

With a newfound purpose and a flame burning deep within me, I brush off the fear like a tattered, old coat. It's liberating. Finally, I feel truly free. Regardless of what happens next, I’ve found freedom and a backbone made of titanium.

I back away from Spencer slowly, keeping the glamour in place to keep him hidden. I step further back until I'm closer to the ring of mercenaries than I am to Davis, keeping my eyes on him at all times. He watches me in return with a predatory gaze, his eyes as sharp as mine, tracking every movement I make.

Crossing my arms over my own chest, I stand and wait for his next move.

"Finally grew some balls, huh?" he taunts, a smirk plastered on his hideous face.

I smirk in return, relishing the way his eyes flare with anger and hatred. "An iron set of ovaries, more like. Balls are weak. All it would take is one kick to the sac, and you'd end up winded and down onto the floor wailing like a little bitch."

Surprise takes over his face before an unflattering shade of red creeps up his neck and face. Fury has veins straining in his neck, and if I look closely enough, I can see his temple throbbing. "Grew a mouth on you too, I see. That's fine. We'll knock that shit right back out of you soon enough."

I openly grin at him. I've just found my backbone. If he thinks he's going to rip it out of me when I finally just found my own two feet to stand on, this is going to be very disappointing for him. It's going to take a hell of a lot to break me this time. I have everything to live for.

"Just figured it's not worth my energy being afraid of you. You're nothing but a weasel with a god complex. Good luck knocking anything out of me this time. I survived five years when life wasn't worth living. Let’s see what you can do when I have everything to live for."

"You little bitch." His face reddens further, and he snarls at me before stepping forward. He makes to move another step forward when I don't flinch, but the man behind him clears his throat. Davis stops and inhales deeply, loud enough for me to hear. It gives me the smallest rush knowing I'm getting to him. It's the first time I've managed to talk back without the fear of punishment afterwards. I know it's coming, and he'll retaliate. But the fear is absent. Maybe that makes me stupid more than brave, but right now I could care less.

These assholes won't win a second time.

Not now.

Notever.

Chapter 30

Novia

"Sir, weshould leave," says the man behind Davis before the bastard himself can open his mouth again.

Davis seems to rein himself back in and nods, eyeing me like he'd love nothing more than to make me sorry for not cowering before him. He'll be waiting a long time before that ever happens again.

He moves until he's only a short distance away from me, not close enough to touch, but close enough that he could lunge at me in an instant. I can hear his teeth grinding from here, see his jaw clench in anger.

"You're right. The Boss will be expecting us very soon." He walks closer, and my spine stiffens further. I may not be afraid of him, but I sure as shit don't trust him. Davis stops three feet in front of me.

With no warning at all, a splitting pain in my cheek has me almost stumbling to the floor while my head and vision grow temporarily fuzzy. My head snaps painfully to the left from the backhand Davis lashes out with, knocking a small gust of air from my mouth with the hit. I can feel blood trickling from a spot high on my cheek that's particularly sore. When I slowly move my head back in place, I find Davis wiping a ring on his middle finger.

Three guesses what tore through my cheekbone with that slap.

"See how much of smartass you are when you're locked away in another cage without your family in the next cage over. There's more where that came from, pet. We'll break you again, I can assure you of that," he gloats, tucking the handkerchief with my blood coated on it in his pocket.

I suppress the rage that comes from him ever muttering a single word about my family, plastering a passive look on my face. With a voice as monotone as I can make it, I tell him, "You'll regret placing a single finger on me. I can assure you of that. Every bruise, cut, or mark you inflict will be returned tenfold. You might want to rethink your pathetic plans of torture."

When he snorts, I pull my mouth up into a grin.

"By all means, continue with whatever ideas your sick, twisted little mind is planning. You'll regret every idea, though. That much I can promise." The blood drips down my cheek and falls to the grass below. I look down at the deep red liquid, my mouth pulling up further still. I'm sure I look a little crazed, but fuck it. Maybe it'll unbalance him enough to realise he's not going to have such an easy job after all. "Every drop of my blood will cost you, Davis. And I can't wait for the moment where you have to pay up."

Once again, his hand darts out, only it's not for the backhand I expected. Instead, his rough hand wraps around my throat and squeezes tightly. "You'll relearn your place soon enough, pet. I think I'll enjoy this more than the last time."

Movement just behind Davis has my eyes darting to where the man who'd tilted his head at me has appeared. The man's head rises, and a set of violet irises meet my blue and green. I'm quick to stifle my reaction, shock racing through my body. It's the stranger who disabled the stupid tracker. I don't know why I'm surprised since I already knew he was on the wrong side.

The stranger’s shakes his head slightly, and he looks at the back of Davis' head before looking back at me. Is he wanting me to keep our interaction a secret? Is that what that look was?

Davis' hand grows tighter around my throat, and breathing suddenly becomes a lot more difficult to do. He yanks me closer and growls, "You'll fear me more than you ever had before. One look will have you trembling before me."

I don't know how I manage it, but a snort escapes me. His hand loosens enough for me to choke out, "Keep your pretty delusions, you prick. Just don't say I didn't warn you."

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