Page 144 of House of Cards

“The fuck is wrong with you?” She backs away until her shoulders hit the headboard. “You said I could leave!”

“Soon as you’ve earned your freedom.”

“Earned it?” Indignation makes her cheeks glow. “That’s what I’ve been doing this whole fucking time!”

My lips curl up at her flash of bravado.

“That was business.” I let the belt dangle from my hand, one loop wrapped around my palm beneath my bandaged knuckles. “This is personal.”

I allow myself a smirk. Seeing as I’m being so fucking self indulgent today, why not?

“All you have to do is make it to the door, and you’re free.”

“Get out of my way, then,” she mutters.

“Where’s the fun in that?”

From the glint of hatred in Zoey’s eyes, it’s clear she doesn’t agree that any part of this is fun, but again, she has no choice but to play along. Snarling, she launches herself off the bed and races for the door.

A surge of muscle-tensing, chest-locking anticipation crushes my body as I turn on my heel and give chase. I reach her as she fumbles to swipe the keycard over the lock, grab the back of her drenched shirt, and haul her backward.

She falls onto her side, silent but for a grunt of pain, but she’s up a second later.

Christ, how my heart is pounding.

I advance on her, but she’s already spinning away, desperately searching for a different escape route. She fakes for the balcony door, then bolts into the bathroom, slamming the door so hard that a vase falls off the sideboard and shatters.

The lock turns, and she lets out a muffled, “What now, sicko?” followed by what sounds like a manic giggle.

I walk up to the door and rattle at the handle, imagining her backing away wide-eyed.

“Attagirl,” I murmur, stepping back.

There’s silence behind the door as I shrug my shoulders and drop the belt to the floor.

As I loosen my tie.

Roll my neck.

Quiet, until I lunge forward and slam my foot against the wood beside the lock.

Zoey yells, “Fuck!” in surprise, then laughs. “You’re delusional, you know that? There’s no way you’re getting?—“

She cuts off when the door shudders under the impact of another kick.

“Stop it!”

Crash.

“You’re not getting in!”

Crash.

The door’s barely showing any signs of giving way, but I could care less because the world’s gone white again and the only thing in the universe that matters right now is me breaking through this door to reach Zoey. What I’ll do to her when I’m inside.

Is she bundled in on herself, weeping?

Or frantically searching for a weapon, determined to make it out of this in one piece?

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