Page 17 of Hollow

“I’m heading back now.” I try to move past him, but he shifts, blocking my path completely. “Excuse me.”

He shoots his hand out and grabs my arm just above the elbow. “Don’t be in such a hurry. The party’s not going anywhere.”

I try to pull away, but his grip tightens. “Let go of me.”

“Or what?” His smile widens, showing too many teeth like a predator. “You’ll run? We both know you can’t get very far. Not with those fucked-up lungs of yours.”

Fear turns my blood to ice. This isn’t merely some drunk guy being creepy. This is deliberate. Planned.

“People know I’m out here. They’ll come looking for me.”

He laughs. “No, they won’t. Everyone’s too wasted to notice you’re gone. And I saw how Damiano and Flint were watching you. But your two guard dogs are busy fucking each other somewhere else in this maze. I saw them go in earlier.”

So I was right about Damiano and Flint, but that doesn’t help me now.

I try again to wrench my arm free. This time, he releases me, but only to slam me hard against the hedge wall. The branches stab into my back through my thin dress. Before I can recover, he’s pressed against me, one hand gripping my throat, the other fumbling with the hem of my dress.

“I wanted to play a little Hunt game since I first saw you at the dock,” he growls, his breath hot and sour against my face. “All fragile and breakable looking. The whistle, the chase, the catch. That’s why I brought the mask. You’d make perfect prey.”

Panic floods my system, and I struggle against him, but he’s too strong, too solid. His hand tightens around my throat, enough to make spots dance at the edges of my vision.

“Stop fighting,” he says, managing to get my button undone. “Prey always says no at first. But we both know girls like you don’t get a lot of action.”

He slides his hand under my dress, rough and invasive. I try to scream, but his grip on my throat tightens, cutting it off. Tears spring to my eyes, partly from lack of oxygen, partly from rage and helplessness.

No. Not helpless. Not ever again.

I bring my knee up hard between his legs. It doesn’t connect as solidly as I’d hoped, but it’s enough to make him loosen his grip and curse.

“Fucking cunt!”

I try to run, but he recovers quickly, grabbing my hair and yanking me back so hard strands rip from my scalp. The pain explodes through my head, disorienting me. Before I can react, he slams me face-first into the hedge.

Something cracks in my nose, and hot blood gushes down my face, filling my mouth with copper. He spins me around again, and this time when he pins me, he holds my wrists above my head with one of his hands.

“Now you’ll get it rough,” he spits, using his free hand to push my dress up over my hips. “Could’ve been fun if you’d played along.”

I twist my body, trying to knee him again, to find some leverage, but he’s got me completely immobilized. His weight crushes me against the hedge, branches scratching my exposed skin, drawing blood in dozens of tiny cuts.

He moves his hand between my legs again, fingers bruising, invasive, cruel. I feel something vile inside me, a sharp pain that makes me scream out despite the hand now clamped over my mouth.

“Shut your mouth,” he hisses. “No one’s coming to save you.”

I bite down on his hand as hard as I can and take the moment to scream again. He jerks back with a yell, and I use the moment to slam my forehead against his nose. It’s a move my dad’s security guy taught me years ago. Never thought I’d actually have to use it.

Blood sprays from Liam’s nose, but the blow costs me, too. My vision swims, darkness creeping in from the edges. But the pain in his face has loosened his grip enough for me to squirm partway free.

He recovers faster than I can escape, grabbing me by the shoulders and throwing me to the ground. The impact knocks every bit of air from my shitty lungs. I try to crawl away, but he’s on top of me in an instant, flipping me onto my back, his weight pinning me to the cold gravel.

“I’m gonna fucking kill you,” he snarls, blood dripping from his nose onto my face. “But not before I get what I came for.”

His hands are at his belt now, unfastening it with quick, practiced movements. I thrash beneath him, but each movement costs me oxygen I don’t have. Black spots float across my vision. My strength is fading fast.

Using my hand, I desperately search the gravel around me for anything I can use. My fingers close around something solid, a decorative garden stake that’s come loose from the path. About eight inches long, metal, with a sharp point for planting.

Liam doesn’t notice, too focused on getting his pants open. “Stop fighting,” he says with a grunt. “You’ll like it once I’m inside you.”

“Fuck you,” I gasp, gathering the last of my strength.

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