Page 12 of The Contract

He hears me.

And—fuck.

I run.

CHAPTER 4

Riley

Crisp air sears my lungs as I race as far as these stupid five-inch heels will carry me.

I tear down the block and veer into the first alley I see. And nearly face-plant into a dumpster. Which makes enough noise to raise the dead.

Bile climbs my throat as heavy footsteps close in.

Fast. Steady.

Not running—hunting.

The more I realize this is a game to him, the more my adrenaline fires up, surging through my limbs, charging to my heart. I shove off the rusty metal and run.

Down one alley, then the next, until the fear that’s been nipping at my heels suddenly goes cold.

A brick wall. Dead end.

Then—hands.

Impossibly strong.

One hand yanks me by the waist, lifting me clean off the ground. The other wraps tight around my throat.

My scream dies before it makes it past the edge of my mouth.

“Shhh,” he murmurs—gentle, soothing. A shush for a toddler woken from a bad dream.

Only this isn’t a dream.

It’s one long, persistent, bullshit nightmare I can’t seem to wake up from.

His grip tightens—not enough to snap my throat. Just enough to prove he can.

His mouth is at my ear, rough stubble scraping the shell. “If you breathe too loud, draw too much attention, I will choke you out. Understand?”

My brain scrambles.

Not because I’m petrified.

Which I am.

And not because I’m remotely turned on by the fact that his enormous dick is currently prodding my back…

Which I’m not.

But because the more terrified I am, the louder my fucking Scottish snark gets.

My teeth grit around the words. “If I say no, do I get the next flying death star?”

A pause.

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