Chapter 5 #3
“You’re not dictating how this works anymore.” He leans closer, breathing the words against my face. “We’re doing things my way now.”
When he attempts to force a kiss on me, panic sinks in, and my heart rate spikes.
“Don’t touch me.” I shove at him. “You’re never touching me again.”
“This is why nobody will ever love you.” He slams me back, and my head bounces off the wall. “You’re a goddamned tease.”
I try to push him off me, and he grabs me by the throat, pinning me to the wall. My nails dig into his hand as I fight for air, but instead of letting me go, he starts pulling up my dress.
“You want to play rough?” he grunts. “I’ll show you fucking rough.”
Terror hollows out my chest as flashes of a familiar memory resurface. Brutal hands. Blinding pain. A loss of control.
I told myself I’d never be a victim again, and I prepared for this. I’ve taken classes, armed myself, and thought of every scenario. But in my alcohol-induced haze, it’s hard to remember what I’m supposed to do.
Then I recall the one tool I have readily available beneath my dress.
My thigh is already bared, and Marco is so focused on punishing me, he doesn’t even notice when I reach for it.
I slip one finger into the retention ring before the others settle into the grooves, and with a sharp tug, I remove the dagger from its sheath.
I’ve carried it for years, and I never imagined I’d have to use it on him, but right now, all bets are off.
I thrust my arm up and slash his cheek, and he freezes.
He releases my throat, finally allowing me a full breath as he touches his fingers to the wound. Blood drips down his face and onto the floor, and once he realizes how bad it is, he lifts his gaze back to mine.
“Back off and leave me alone.” I hold the blade between us, hoping the threat alone will be enough.
I’m already weak and woozy, and I’m not confident I have the strength to stab him right now. But while I’m trying to reason with him, he’s formulating another plan.
Before I can register that it’s too late, he grabs me by the wrist and slams me into the wall so hard, it knocks the wind from my lungs.
I’m ashamed of how easily he disarms me, but he has the advantage in my current state. If I weren’t intoxicated, maybe I’d have better odds. As it stands, I know I’ve made a grave mistake, and all I can do is curl into myself and try to drag in air.
A crushing wave of exhaustion sweeps through me, weakening my legs until I slide down the wall and crumple onto the floor. My eyes are so heavy, I’m fighting to keep them open. But through the darkness, a familiar voice offers me a ray of hope.
“Leave her alone.”
“Stay out of this, Cristian,” Marco seethes. “This isn’t your business.”
I force my eyelids open, and when my head lolls to meet Cristian’s gaze, his eyes flash with fury.
He doesn’t ask a second time as he approaches and grabs Marco by the collar.
“I said stay the fuck out of—”
Marco’s rant ends abruptly as Cristian lays him out with a single punch. But he doesn’t stop there. When he glances over at me again, something dark and terrifying washes over him.
He kneels, narrowing his chilling focus to Marco as he strikes him with so much violence, blood spatters across his suit. Then he rains down another series of blows, beating him into the floor without any intention of stopping.
It’s at that point Isobel finally reappears, screeching at Cristian as she barrels down the hall.
Before she can fling herself into the middle of it, Angelo steps in, grabbing his brother by the shoulder.
“Cristian, not here.”
Cristian hesitates, the veins in his neck pulsing as he battles a silent war inside himself. Then, with a muttered curse, he shoves Marco away in disgust before he rises to his feet.
For a minute, I think Marco might actually be dead as I take in the bloody scene before me. But then he groans, writhing in pain as he opens his eyes.
“You fucking asshole,” he slurs. “You broke my goddamned nose.”
Angelo sighs. “You just couldn’t keep your mouth shut.”
Cristian turns around and kicks Marco in the teeth, and Isobel sobs as she falls to her knees beside him.
With the threat effectively neutralized, the last of the adrenaline dumps from my body, draining every ounce of energy I have left. I can barely keep my eyes open when Cristian approaches me and lifts me into his arms again.
“S’okay,” I mumble against his chest. “You can leave me. I just need a little nap.”
“How much have you had to drink?” He studies me, and if I didn’t know any better, I’d think that was concern on his face. But that can’t be right. He hates me. Or…he did. I think he did?
I don’t know anymore.
“How much is there in half a Fishbowl?” I ask.
“Jesus,” he mutters, glancing up at Angelo.
“Go,” Angelo tells him. “I’ll wrap things up here.”
“But my friends.” I try to motion in their direction, and my hand just flops against Cristian’s shoulder.
“Abella’s asleep at the penthouse,” Angelo assures me. “I’ll get the other two home safely.”
I nod as my eyes grow heavy. “I’m just going to close my eyes for a minute.”