12 Rounds (Knockout 1) - Page 3

I bank on it.

Pray for it.

Please, please, please God give me strength.

Seconds pass.

Then minutes.

There’s a cold brush of metal against my neck, a tight fist in my hair. I wiggle beneath the man behind me’s forceful grasp, and scream as the knife at the back of my neck bites into my flesh.

A deep, gritty voice throbs in my ears and drowns out the screams leaving my throat. “Keep still you little bitch.”

I’ve always been a crappy listener. That, and I feel like giving up is admitting that you’re weak. This is where my rush of adrenaline decides to come out.

I have never been a weak person.

And I don’t intend on becoming one now.

I kick behind me and dig my heel into my attackers shin. He grunts. Screams Fuck. Drops the knife. Then takes in a deep breath. He also releases his grip on my hair and that gives me the opportunity I need to run. So I do.

I run and shriek at the top of my lungs. My high-pitched voice pierces the night sky and dances off the clouds before echoing, trailing down the abandoned streets.

Vacant cars are parked against the long stretch of sidewalk and I frantically start banging on some of the windows, hoping I might catch a couple making out or something.

But I have no such luck.

I’m alone.

Inside and outside.

My attacker’s raspy grunts are mixed in with my sceams along with his thundering footsteps. I hang a left into a nearby alley, focused on a chain linked fence toward the back.

If I can climb that fence I can get away.

I can save myself.

When I felt my attacker’s body press into mine from behind earlier, I could tell that he is at least fifty pounds overweight. That should give me a bit of an advantage. I think.

I speed ahead, panting and coughing. My lungs have given out and my throat feels like sandpaper. The will and

determination inside of me is the only thing keeping me going. A smile pulls on my lips when I’m feet away from the fence. A burst of exhilaration and happiness plumments through as my fingers stretch toward the metal links. I can almost feel the chilled breath of its coolness against my fingertips.


What I don’t anticipate is a separation in the concrete. A divot wide enough for the tip of my right tennis shoe to get stuck in. I trip and fall. My chin digs into the pavement and I let out a muffled scream as my teeth clamp down on my tongue.

A sadistic laugh comes from somewhere above me. And when I lift my head I can see my attackers’ massive shadow covering me, engulfing me like flames smothering a bundle of logs in a fireplace. “No,” I whimper. “No.”

Suddenly, I’m yanked up by the collar of my white button up shirt. I scream as loud as I can, praying that by some miracle someone might hear me. Then my attacker’s thick calloused hands clasp around my throat and starts squeezing. “Just shut up,” he breathes into my ear in a gravelly voice. “You’re going to enjoy this.”

I force out one last scream as he cuts off my air supply and then I hear a third voice ring out into the air, “Hey!” a man screams. “Back the fuck off!”

I don’t get to feel any relief at the sound of someone coming to my rescue, because the second the third party enters, my attacker takes my head and slams it into the brick wall his hips have me pinned against.

Chapter Two


Tags: Lauren Hammond Knockout Romance
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