Page 96 of Power
The transformation was instantaneous, darkness flooding his eyes like spilled ink. Warning bells weren’t just ringing; they were screaming,Run! Run! Run!
He advanced, and this time, Ididback away.
“He thinks he holds all the power,” Marcus snarled, “because I let him think he holds all the power. But he doesn’t hold anything.” His voice dropped to a venomous whisper. “I’m the one with all the power. I’m the one keeping his secret. With one phone call, I could orchestrate his collapse. He would lose it all—his money, his freedom, everything. And you?” He jabbed a finger toward my chest, taking another step closer while I stepped back. “You think you’re any kind of match for me? You have no idea who you’re messing with.”
“I’m messing with someone who sexually harasses women,” I shot back, “then stalks them and shows up at their apartments to threaten and intimidate them. You think they’ll go along with whatever you say just because you’re, what, flexing your alpha-male bullshit?”
His nostrils flared. “You will do as you’re told, Miss West, or you will lose everything. And now that I know you care about Jace this much?” His lips twisted into a cruel smile. “That’s a handy piece of intelligence to have.”
I swallowed hard. I might not have a full confession, but I had enough to show Jace who Marcus really was.
“Get out,” I said coldly.
My cell phone rang.
God help me, the sound drew Marcus’s attention directly to it. I lunged toward the desk, but he was faster. Maybe he grabbed the phone to prevent me from answering it and telling whoever it was that he was currently in my office, threatening me. Or maybe he noticed how it had been propped up slightly, but either way, he got to it first, and when he swiped to decline the call, his eyes locked on the screen.
He froze. His dark gaze snapped from my phone to me, realization dawning. He saw that I’d been recording him. His jaw tightened to granite as his fingers jabbed at the screen, deleting the evidence I’d gathered.
“You think you’re a crafty little bitch, don’t you?” he growled.
With a vicious flick of his wrist, he hurled my phone across the room. It crashed against the wall and clattered to the floor, the impact making me flinch. Before I could react, his hand shot out, fingers clamping around my throat. I instinctively grabbed his wrist, trying to pry it away.
“You just made a big fucking mistake.” His grip tightened.
I drove my knee upward into his groin. “So did you,” I choked out.
His hold loosened with a pained grunt, but when I tried todart past him, his fingers tangled in my hair, yanking me backward with such force that stars exploded behind my eyes.
Time slowed to a nightmarish crawl. I recognized that look on his face. That same unfathomable rage that had transformed my father’s features into something inhuman decades ago. Pure malevolence stared back at me, a desire to hurt, to punish, to dominate radiating from every pore.
Marcus clearly saw himself as untouchable, and I had nearly toppled his house of cards. Had the phone call not interrupted, he would have been destroyed.
With a guttural sound, he slammed me against the bookshelf. Volumes rained down around us as his expensive leather shoe drove into my rib cage, sending me sprawling to the floor. Any hope that someone outside my office would hear that crash and come running in passed. Confirming I’d waited too late in the day to make this happen. I should have done it earlier. At a safer time, when the office was filled with potential witnesses.
Instantly, my mind fractured, past and present colliding in a kaleidoscope of terror.
“No, Daddy! Stop!” I squealed, clutching my teddy bear against my chest like a shield.
Marcus advanced toward me, that familiar evil twisting his features. I scrambled onto all fours, heart thundering against my ribs, trying to crawl away.
“Daddy, stop hitting Mommy!”
“You bitch.” Marcus’s fingers closed around my ankle like a vise.
I thrashed wildly, breaking free.
“I hate you, Daddy!”
Daddy stopped beating Mommy, who was lying on the ground, too still. His eyes flashed to me, darker than I’d ever seen as he redirected his attention. To me. He stomped closer, and I ran screaming.
I was a terrible daughter because in that moment, I regretted shouting at him to stop hurting Mommy.I don’t want to be hit.Last time, I thought I was going to die and?—
“Ow!” My head jerked backward violently.
Marcus fisted my hair, wrenching me toward him. “You think you’re so smart, don’t you?”
Daddy flipped me onto my back. I kicked my little Mary Janes against his chest, but his fist came up, and I knew, even in my nine-year-old mind, that this was it. Mommy and I would never make it to the ocean, never feel warm waves lapping against our ankles while sunshine warmed our finally-free-from-Daddy smiles. We’d never escape. His fist slammed into my temple, and everything went dark.
