Page 13 of Awry
Before I even recover from the bone-jarring stop and reach for her, my door is ripped open, and I’m grabbed by my neck and hauled sideways.
My seatbelt hinders my attacker for long enough that Presh screams again — this time in anger and concern — and latches onto my other arm.A knife flashes before my face, and I instinctively sheer back from it, giving Breaker room to slice through the shoulder and lap belt.His dark hair, beard, and tanned skin make it easy to distinguish him even in the gloom.
As he’s withdrawing, his hand on my neck shifting to firm his grip on me, I grab his wrist with both hands.I twist and somehow — miraculously even — manage to stab him in the thigh with his own knife.
He grunts.
Grunts.
As if I’ve merely scratched him.
Then he yanks the knife back out of his thigh and head-butts me.
My sunglasses snap, falling off as my vision blackens around the edges.Presh, practically wrapped around my other arm, snarls and spits in panicked anger.
Breaker hauls me out of the vehicle, managing to wrench me free of Presh’s hold, presumably because she’s still belted into her seat.
Her angry panting sobs keep me focused, though.
Breaker spins me around.I catch a glimpse of Chains hovering behind us and grinning manically.Using the momentum of Breaker throwing me around, I punch Chains solidly in the throat.I’m not strong, and the shifters aren’t even remotely weak, not even in their human forms.But a punch to the throat is still nasty.
Chains stumbles back, gasping for breath, then choking.
Breaker howls with laughter, dragging me to the back of the car as I kick and flail.His hold on my neck doesn’t falter, and I can barely breathe.The other side of the car is crumpled against what appears to be a shoulder-high stone wall.At a glance, the wall has taken more damage than the car.Likely due to some healthy application of extremely expensive essence weaving by a mage with a fabricator affinity — one with the ability to meld essence with metal and other materials.That essence might even hold a glimpse into the future, what with my mother and one of my so-called uncles both seers.Of sorts.
The car has slid all the way off the road.An open beach and pounding surf spread out from the other side of the wall.We aren’t even remotely south enough to have reached the dunes of the Oregon Coast, but on a clear day, I might be able to see a particular curve of the coastline from the right vantage point off this beach.A curve on which spreads an expansive estate that I need to … claim.
Not something to be thinking about while being strangled.
Breaker takes each blow, shin kick, and foot stomp that I manage to land with barely a reaction.He slams me back over the trunk of the car, pressing over me.I score a vicious scratch down his cheek — evoking a minimal flinch from him — before he captures both my hands in one of his and presses them over my head, against the back window.My arms aren’t long enough for that stretch, and my shoulders protest.
“Stay in the fucking car,” Chains growls.To Presh.
I twist and buck, but Breaker pins me against the trunk, pressing his huge body over me to do so.He loosens his grip on my neck, but not on my hands.I gasp, gulping as much oxygen as possible because I already know it’s only a brief reprieve.
The asshole then slams my head back with his free hand, his thumb under my right eye, forefinger over top.
For a panicked moment, I think he’s going to gouge my eye out.
Instead, he leans close, gazing at me and grinning manically.“I was right,” he crows.
He means my eye color, identifying me as an awry.And seriously?Only an utter moron would need a closer look to confirm the fucking vibrant violet color of my eyes.
Then Chains is leaning over me as well, smirking.“The boss is going to be extra happy.”
Breaker grunts.
Then, as I expected, he starts yanking and pulling at my clothing.One-handed, because he’s still got my hands pinned over my head, plus my legs and torso pinned by his body.
“What the fuck are you doing?”Chains snarls.
“This cunt ain’t protected,” Breaker grunts, trying to get my skintight faux-leather pants off me while still firmly pinning the bulk of my body against the car.Every time he gives me a bit of space, I twist and buck.
“You don’t take from one of the awry,” Chains says in a warning tone.“Not without —”
“I’m fucking her.”Breaker’s spittle sprays over my face and neck.He smells like old, wet leather, spiced aftershave, and the heavy musk of a predator.“She wanted a chase, I gave it.Now I get my reward.”
“It’s broad daylight,” I say.“You fucking morons.”
