Page 105 of Velvet Corruption

My lungs were burning, but I didn’t stop. If I could reach the gun, maybe I had a chance.

I was tired, scared, tipsy. Didn’t slow down. I was on my own. That was nothing new. I should have known. No one would help.

My only chance was to keep running, keep going. If I stopped, they’d have me.

I heard him, getting closer. Had to move faster. My chest hurt, burning. They couldn’t be trusted.

None of them.

But I knew that already. Was it worth it? Worth getting caught, getting killed? My fault. I should have listened. Should have known.

Alek would never let me hear the end of it…when we met again in hell, I supposed.

The intruder was gaining on me. I thought of Rosie. Was she safe? She had to be. If I didn’t get out of this, I would never forgive myself. I couldn’t stop moving. Couldn’t give up. I was desperate. Faster.

I was so close.

It was all I could do. Keep going, stay alive. So close, so fucking close. But so was he. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. I was scared. I kept moving.

That’s what mattered. I wouldn’t give up.

I took a step up. The stairs creaked.

A hand clamped around my ankle.

I went down hard.

My knees slammed into the steps, white-hot pain ricocheting up my legs. I screamed—wordless, instinctive—and kicked, twisting, but his grip was a goddamn vice. I clawed for therailing, the banister, the wood, anything, but he was already dragging me backward, dragging me down.

“No—no, no—” The words tore out of me in a panic, as I thrashed against him. My palms scraped against the edge of a step. Blood bloomed. Didn’t matter. I kicked harder.

“Fucking bitch,” a voice hissed. “You ruined my goddamn life.”

My blood turned to ice.

Mickey Russell.

Of course it was him. Of course.

His grip cinched tighter, yanking me flat against the steps, knocking the wind from my lungs. I gasped, choking on the pain.

“You think you can destroy a man like me and walk away clean?” he snarled. “You think you could humiliate me in court, paint me like some fucking monster?”

He was on me now. Pinning me. His breath was hot and sour against my cheek, his knee pressing into my thigh, locking me down. My head slammed against the wood, stars exploding in my vision.

“I was a fucking doctor,” he spat. “I had a future. A family. I had everything. And you? You took it. You took it all.”

“I took nothing you didn’t fucking earn,” I gasped, lashing out with my elbow. I caught him in the ribs. A sick crunch.

He growled—an animal sound—and grabbed my hair, yanking my head back. Pain flared like lightning.

“You think that matters now?” he whispered. “Nobody cares. Nobody’s coming for you.”

I twisted, slammed my heel into his shin. He shouted, punched the floor beside my head hard enough to rattle the step.

“Shut the fuck up!” he roared, spittle hitting my face. “You’re just another lying whore who couldn’t take a real man. You think I didn’t know where you lived? I’ve been watching you. Every day. Every night. You walk around like you're safe. Like you won.”

The walls felt like they were closing in, the shadows in the stairwell swallowing me whole. My body throbbed, scraped raw from the fall. My mouth tasted like blood. My vision swam.

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