Page 96 of Loving Violet
Suddenly, John grabs me from behind, and I fall hard to the ground again. I struggle to get him off me, but he’s too heavy.
I yell at him, "Let me go! Don’t do this!”
He just shushes me and says, "It’s okay, little flower. We are together now."
Then he leans down to kiss me. When I feel his lips touch mine, I bite him hard, making him lean back. I hope he’ll roll off me, but he doesn’t. Instead, he slaps me hard across the face, and my vision blurs again.
He leans down, his face very close to mine. "Little flower, I’m getting tired of all this fighting. Don’t make me hurt you. I just want to love you. Why don’t you understand that’s what I’m doing?"
As I regain my wits, I say, "You’re hurting me. Just let me go." I struggle again while John laughs.
"You think you can get away from me, Violet?" he mocks.
His laugh sends chills down my spine. I can feel his breath on my face, smell the metallic tang of his blood where I bit him. Desperation fuels my next move as I twist and squirm beneath him, kicking and thrashing with all my strength.
"Stop fighting," he growls, his grip tightening. "You’re only making this harder for yourself."
But I don’t stop. I can’t. I refuse to let him break me. I gather all of my strength and slam my knee upward, hitting him in the balls as hard as I can. John groans and loosens his grip just enough for me to scramble out from under him.
I get to my feet and start running again, my legs aching, my face stinging from the slap. The forest is a blur around me, the darkness pressing in on all sides. I have no idea where I’m going, but I know that I have to keep moving.
"Violet!" John’s voice is angry now, a stark contrast to the sickly sweet tone he used before. "Come back here!"
I ignore him, focusing on the ground in front of me, avoiding roots and rocks the best as I can. My breaths come in ragged gasps, my body protesting every step. But I push on, fueled by fear and determination.
I can’t let him catch me again. I have to find a way out. For Adrian, for Austin, and for myself.
Chapter 32
Austin
With the earringclenched in my hand, we press forward into the tunnel. Each step feels heavier than the last, the oppressive darkness closing in around us. The stench of damp earth and rot assaults my senses, and the faint sound of dripping water echoes like a mocking clock, ticking away the seconds I’ve already lost.
The beam from my flashlight cuts through the murk but only barely. Its light dances across the uneven walls, casting warped shadows that make my pulse quicken. The rats scatter ahead of us, their frantic squeaks disappearing into the black. My chest tightens. The thought of Violet trapped in this godforsaken place twists my gut.
At the tunnel’s end, something glints faintly in the beam of my flashlight. I crouch and spot a crumpled piece of gray tape lying discarded on the ground. My stomach lurches.
Miller picks it up, turning it over in his hands. His face hardens.
“She was restrained with this,” he says, his voice grim. He pulls an evidence bag from his vest and seals it away, methodical as always.
But I can’t focus on procedure right now. My hands ball into fists, and anger boils over, escaping as a frustrated growl. “We’re wasting time,” I snap, my voice harsh in the claustrophobic tunnel.
“Outside,” Miller orders firmly, motioning to the team. “Stay sharp, boys. Be ready for anything.”
The officers move with precision, their tactical gear rustling softly as they form up. Noah sticks close to me, his own tension radiating off him in waves.
The younger officer in front cracks open the door and peers out into the night. “Clear,” he announces, and one by one, we emerge from the tunnel.
The night air hits me like a slap, cold and biting. I suck in a deep breath, the crispness cutting through the suffocating frustration that’s been choking me. But the relief is fleeting. The forest stretches out around us, dense and shadowed, the moonlight barely breaking through the canopy above.
Ahead, a car sits parked on the trail. It’s unfamiliar, and something about its presence makes my skin crawl. My gut tightens, a visceral warning I can’t shake.
Then I hear it—far off but unmistakable. A man’s voice, rough and angry, shatters the silence.
“Violet, come back here!”
The words slam into me like a freight train. Adrenaline floods my system, and before I realize it, I’m shouting, “They’re near, Miller!” My legs move on their own, propelling me forward, crashing through the underbrush.
