Page 175 of Crave

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I flinched, my body seizing. My head snapped toward the sound.

My vision blurred—tears, blood, the sting of the hit.

But I saw him.

For one breathless second—I saw him still fighting.

Still reaching.

Then—

Nothing.

Hands clamped around my arms again.

Rough. Heavy.

Fingers like steel digging into the flesh of my biceps.

I screamed, thrashed, my boots scraping against gravel as they dragged me backward—toward the car.

The sleek black blur of it loomed closer. The rear door yawning open like a mouth.

“No—no, let me go!”

My heel caught on the edge of the pavement. I kicked back—caught one of them in the shin.

A grunt. Another curse.

The second man grabbed my legs. Lifted.

I was weightless for a moment—fighting air, panic clawing its way up my throat.

Then they slammed me down.

My spine hit leather.

The door slammed shut behind me.

Dark.

Hot.

Hands still on me. The press of bodies. The stench of sweat and smoke.

And then?—

The voice.

A whisper, low and velvet-smooth against my ear.

“Hello, Angel…”

They shoved me inside the car like I weighed nothing.

The leather seat was hard underneath me, knees scraping the edge, my body collapsing sideways. The door slammed shut behind me with a sound that felt final—like a lid sealing a coffin.

Darkness pressed in. Not just the absence of light, but something heavier. Thicker. Breathing.

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