Page 68 of Chased By My Grumpy Alpha
Pure, animal panic explodes through me. This is really happening. The man I loved, the man I trusted with my life, is selling me into slavery. I won’t go quietly. I won’t make this easy for them.
I bite down hard on Andrew’s hand, tasting blood as he yelps and releases me. Luna launches herself at the nearest man’s eyes, all claws and fury, buying me precious seconds to grab my knife from the bedside table.
“Stay back!” I brandish the blade in my shaking hand, backing toward the window again. “All of you, stay back!”
“She’s armed,” one of the men observes calmly, like he’s noting the weather.
“So, deal with it,” Blackwood snaps at him. “Carefully. Damaged goods are worth considerably less.”
They spread out, aiming to surround me. These aren’t random thugs; they’re professionals who have done this before.
I feint left, then dive right, slashing wildly with my knife. The blade catches one of them across the forearm, drawing a line of blood, but he barely flinches.
“Feisty,” he comments, blood dripping from his arm. “The buyers like that.”
“I am not livestock!” I scream, striking out again. “I am not for sale!”
“Everyone’s for sale,” Andrew says with cold detachment. “It’s just a matter of price.”
Hearing him say this breaks something fundamental inside me. This is the man who told me I was beautiful. Who promised me forever. Who made me believe I was worth loving.
The first man tries to grab me from behind, but I spin and drive my elbow into his solar plexus. He grunts and staggers back, giving me room to slash at the other one. My blade catcheshim across the chest, tearing through his shirt and leaving a shallow cut.
But I’m small, and I’m weaker than they are, and I’m outnumbered. The first man recovers quickly, lunging forward while I’m focused on his partner. His fist catches me in the ribs, driving the breath from my lungs. I stumble, gasping, and barely duck under a grabbing hand.
I slash upward with my knife, catching the second man across the jaw. He roars in pain and anger, blood streaming down his neck, but it only makes him more determined. His backhand sends me reeling into the wall, stars exploding across my vision.
“Enough playing around,” he snarls, touching his bleeding face.
They coordinate their next attack. While one distracts me from the front, the other circles around. I see it coming, but I’m not fast enough to stop it. A meaty fist slams into my kidney from behind, sending fire up my spine. I cry out, my knife hand wavering.
“Luna!” I scream as I see one of them grabbing my cat and hurling her against the wall. The sound she makes when she hits—a wet crack that turns my blood to ice—tells me everything I need to know. “No! Luna!”
Rage gives me strength I didn’t know I had. I spin and drive my knife deep into the nearest man’s thigh. He howls, stumbling backward, but his partner is already on me. His punch connects with my cheekbone, snapping my head back against the wall. Blood fills my mouth.
I fight like a wild animal, clawing and biting and stabbing whenever I get an opening. My knife finds flesh again and again—arms, shoulders, anywhere I can reach. But they’re bigger, stronger, and trained for this kind of work. For every blow I land, they land three.
Through the pain and chaos, I see Andrew watching with cold satisfaction. The man who used to kiss my forehead so gently is standing there like he’s watching a rogue sheep being corralled.
A kick to my stomach doubles me over and makes me retch. Another to my back sends me to my knees. I try to crawl toward Luna’s still form, but giant hands drag me back by my hair.
“Stop fighting,” one of the men pants, his blood streaming from multiple cuts. “You’re only making this worse for yourself.”
“Go to hell,” I spit, blood and saliva flying from my lips.
The next punch catches me across the temple. The world tilts sideways, and all I can see is black spots. But I don’t give up. Even as my knife slips from my numb fingers, even as my legs refuse to support me, I keep fighting.
They pin me down, one holding my arms while the other secures my legs. I thrash weakly, but the fight is going out of me. Blood runs from my nose, my mouth, a cut above my eye. My ribs ache with every inhale.
“That’s it,” one of them says, breathing hard. “Just relax. Stop fighting.”
But I can’t stop. Not because of some noble cause, but because the alternative is unthinkable. My heart is shattered, my trust destroyed, but I still want to live.
My vision tunnels down to a pinprick of light. Luna lies motionless by the wall, her small body twisted at an unnatural angle. Andrew watches with pleasure as his investment is finally secured. The man who promised to love me forever can’t even look me in the eye.
I close my eyes, the desire to survive leaving my body. What’s the point?
None of it was real.
