Page 87 of Hostile Love
Inside my head, I’m screaming at myself, writhing and squirming.
Only the fucker throttling me won’t budge. His muted green eyes drill into mine like he’s racing to suck out my soul before my last breath.
Carina wriggles and mutters under me, doing her best to wrangle herself free. From the corner of my wide eyes, she thumps her fist into the shredded muscle of his bicep and digs her nails into the wound.
It only makes him angrier.
His pupils dilate to pin pricks and he snarls, the vice-like grip around my throat tightening.
My lungs burn and I’m sure my face must be purple by now.
The flashing images of Matheus come and go, giving me something else to fight harder for. I deserve happiness.
That dark desire of ours intensifies and feral power burns through me.
Somehow, I manage to slap my palm onto the side of his face and bring the pad of my thumb to his eyeball.
I am not prey.
Internally repeating my mantra, I shove my thumb into his eye and push hard, hearing him growl.
To stop me from blinding him, he’d have to let go of either my throat or my shattered arm.
Take your pick, motherfucker. I’m not backing down.
In a standoff of wills, he locks on tighter, and I push in deeper. My chest convulses as my lungs protest and my energy starts to fade.
Carina continues to thump and finally frees one of her legs, using it to push and kick him. Though it’s not enough.
My eyes roll and my mouth widens to inhale the slightest wisp of air. My hands go fuzzy, and my body betrays me by going weak.
“No!” An echoey roar kick starts my heart. “Get the fuck off her!”
I shoot my eyes left where a blur of white comes into view and the guy on top of us is dragged backwards like he’s swept up in a cyclone.
Sucking in a lungful of air, I scramble to sit upright, coughing, heaving for air, and a little disorientated.
Carina rolls out from under me and rips the balaclava off my face to help me breathe.
“Run…go…” I look her square in the eyes and fumble for the dripping knife at our knees. “Take…this. Hide.”
My hoarse voice is barely a whisper, but she hears it. I know she does.
I drop the dagger in her lap and touch my throat, lightly massaging the bruised skin. My lungs work fast and my blurry gaze lands upon the brawl unfolding next to us on the stairs.
Two men, both wearing balaclavas, wrestle in a one-on-one, unarmed battle.
One a scorpion.
The other a crow.
Matheus.
Goosebumps prickle all over me. My heart is thumping double time and the awareness of pain trickles through me as my senses return.
Shaking like a stupid leaf, I inhale long, deep breaths, flaring my nostrils to take in even more air.
While I recover, Carina stays beside me and rubs my back instead of leaving.
