Hideaway (Devil's Night 2)

I heard a shuffle behind me, more grunts, and it sounded like a table was falling over, but I couldn’t see.

And then his hand was in my jeans. They were being yanked against my hips, and everything inside kicked in. I thrashed, kicking and trying to twist around as I bared my teeth. As soon as I could face him, I was going to bite. Everything I’d told Rika to do.

He gripped my hair tight at my scalp, pushing my head into the floor as he pulled down my jeans. I clenched my jaw together, my face twisted and every muscle tight.

No.

No!

“Aren’t you going to scream?” he taunted in my ear. “Cry?”

No.

I felt him working his own jeans behind me, and then he leaned in again, slipping a hand down between my legs. “You can be mine,” he whispered. “Such a sweet, little whore.”

And I jerked up, twisting my neck more than it should’ve gone, and bit his cheek.

“Ugh!” he growled and turned away, loosening his grip long enough for me to shoot over and grab anything I could reach.

I latched onto the leg of a small, round end table and pulled, catching a crystal bowl that tumbled off. Taking it, I swung around and smashed it into the side of Ilia’s head, shards of glass falling everywhere as the dish crumbled in my hand.

Pressing the pieces left into his skin, I barely even noticed the sharp pain in my own hand as the chunks dug through my glove.

He cried out, tumbling to the side. I quickly kicked off my boots and jeans, still around my knees, and scrambled away from him. I slammed my hand down on Gabriel’s desk, pushing myself up, and saw the gold letter opener laying there.

“Come here, you bitch.”

Grabbing the sharp object and gripping it tight, I whipped around, not sure how close he

was. It caught the side of his face, slicing a crimson line from ear to mouth.

He grabbed hold of his cheek, falling to his knees again. I fisted my hand, feeling the pain of the glass, and hit him as hard as I could again and again and again until I couldn’t breathe anymore.

He fell to his back, spent, and I stared at him, fingers still gripping the knife tightly. I fought not to go and sink the blade into his chest.

I wanted them all—everyone—to know they can’t hurt me. I don’t allow it.

Raising my eyes, I glared at Lev and David who stood on the other side of the room with Gabriel’s guards. David had one in a choke-hold, and Lev had the other pinned to the wall. That was what the scuffle was about that I’d heard.

They were protecting me, after all.

I dropped the letter opener on the floor and picked up the napkin sitting on top of Gabriel’s dinner dishes on his desk. Blood trickled down from my nose, around my lips, and dripped from my chin, and I wiped it away, tasting the metallic saltiness filter through my teeth.

I wrapped the napkin around my cut hand and stalked over to the man at David’s feet, squeezing my fist in his hair. “Get him and get out of here,” I said in a low tone, pushing him toward Ilia.

I’d be dead in a day if I called the police.

But justice would come. I’d make sure of it.

Lev released his guard, and the two of them stumbled out of the office, taking Ilia with them.

I sniffled, tasting more blood drip down my throat as I walked for the guys. I was still in my underwear and a T-shirt, and there was blood in my hair, making a few strands stick to my face. That’s all Lev and David saw as they watched me warily, as if they no longer knew me.

Shit, I wasn’t even sure I did.

But strangely, I didn’t mind. This was who I was supposed to be.

“Get Marina,” I told David, walking past him and out of the office. “I need a dress.”