Page 81 of Liars

Ice shot through my veins. This wasn’t a dream. A nightmare, yes, but very fucking real. I twisted, trying to break free, but the man’s grip was ironclad.

He wrenched me back, his arm locking around my waist, his strength overwhelming. My boots scraped against the tile as he dragged me toward the door.

I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t think.

Then instinct kicked in.

I twisted, sinking my teeth into his hand—hard, desperate—until my jaw ached. The leather absorbed most of the damage, but I felt him flinch. A small victory. Not enough. His grip tightened hard, and I was sure it would leave a bruise.

“You little bitch?—”

I threw my elbow back, aiming for his ribs. Missed.

He shoved me forward, his breath ragged, his patience snapping. “Stop struggling,” he hissed, his breath hot against my ear. “I don’t want to make a mess, but I will if you make me.”

What kind of mess?

A bloody mess?

My blood?

My vision blurred as we neared the exit. A metal door loomed ahead, slightly ajar, cold air licking at my skin.

No. No, no, no, no.

The panic in my chest turned into fury.

I didn’t listen. Adrenaline surged as I bit down hard on his gloved fingers, but he barely flinched, the thick material absorbing most of the pain. My jaw ached from the effort, and frustration mounted as he tightened his hold, his other arm snaking around my waist to drag me toward the door.

The flickering light above cast eerie shadows on the walls as he pulled me through the door, his pace quick and purposeful. I struggled harder, clawing at his arm, but he only growled, his grip bruising.

We reached the back exit, the cold metal door just feet away. Panic clawed at me, my mind racing with worst-case scenarios. I slammed my foot into his shin, my body twisting like hellfire, but he barely stumbled. My scream came out muffled against his palm.

“Where the fuck do you think you're going?” The voice cut through the chaos like a blade.

The man’s body locked up.

So did mine.

That voice—dark, lethal, too calm for what was about to happen.

Kreed.

I twisted just enough to see him, standing at the end of the hallway, his body coiled tight like a predator about to strike. His dark eyes were murderous, locked on to my captor like he was already deciding where to bury the body.

And then I saw it.

The gun.

Holy. Shit.

Casually held. Like it belonged in his hand. Like he’d done this before. I’d never even seen one in person.

“This doesn't concern you,” my captor hissed.

Kreed cocked his head slightly, his lips curling into something cold. “See, that’s where you fucked up. Becauseshe”—his voice dropped lower—“belongs to me. And despite the amount of trouble she causes, I want her back.”

The words sent a different kind of shiver through me.

---