Page 9 of Break the Ice
I nod, throat thick.
When the bell tolls, she presses the bundle into my arms. “Wait for the service to start.”
She slips out, leaving me alone with the clothes and the pounding in my ears.
Leggings. A hoodie. My Portland U t-shirt. Running shoes.
“Oh, Jesus…” The whisper claws through my teeth as I pull the leggings over my shredded skin. It burns. Itches. I bite down hard to stop from sobbing out loud.
When the organ swells, I push open the door and slip into the bright daylight.
Straight into a wall of muscle.
“Going somewhere?” Presley sneers, gripping my hoodie.
Fresh air slices through my lungs as he slams me into the stone wall. His face is battered—stitches, bruises, split lip. Courtesy of Elijah.
“You told him,” I choke.
“He didn’t take it well,” Presley laughs.
“Gave you a new face,” I snap before his palm cracks across my cheek.
White-hot pain bursts from my ear to my teeth.
“That’s better.” He grinds me into the wall. “A woman should be seen, not heard. Remember that, Finney. It’ll please your husband.”
Our stares lock. His sneer curdles any fleeting hope that he might stop.
“You’re going to go back in there. Put on your purity dress. Cast your gaze down. Promise yourself to Montgomery like the good lamb you are. He’ll decide if your worth, a hot cunt or a maid. I don’t care. Nobody cares. You’re nothing but obedience. A lamb. Clear?”
Tears streak hot down my cheeks.
His hand tightens around my throat.
I can’t scream. Can’t breathe.
Fear spreads ice through my veins, rooting me to the ground even as my lungs claw for air.
Please, God. Please?—
A hard jolt knocks me forward. I gasp, dirt scraping my palms.
“Fin?” A deep voice cuts through the ringing in my ears. Strong hands lift me upright. “Fin… it’s me.”
“Elijah…?” My voice splinters.
“I’m here.” His arms lock around me. “Let’s go.”
Presley yanks Elijah’s hood. “Put her down and run, pussy boy.”
Elijah turns; face carved from stone. “Take your hands off me.”
Presley smirks. “She’s nothing. A stupid girl. You don’t even want her, do you, Eli?”
Elijah sets me aside carefully. Steps into Presley’s space. “I warned you,” he grits. “Touch her again?—”
His fist drives Presley’s head back.
