Cruel Infatuation (Underground Kings 3)

He grips me by my arm and lifts me to my feet. He leans in to kiss me, but I bite his bottom lip until he cries out in pain. I ram my forehead against his face, but it hurts me more than it hurts him. Trevor grips me by my hair and slams me against the wall. My towel somehow manages to stay in place, but I know that won’t be the case if I don’t get away from him.

I’m tired. My face is sore. I can hardly catch my breath. Blood drips down my throat, and all I can focus on is his hand riding up the back of my leg. His lips graze my neck, and I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to dig deep for the courage and strength to fight him.

He flips me around, and I rear my leg up again to kick him in the balls, but he blocks me. He meets my attempt with one of his own and slams his fist against my face.

“I’m done fucking around, Finley. You’re going to lay on this bed and let me fucking have you. Then, you’re going to work for me tomorrow.”

My eyes slide to my nightstand, and my alarm clock flips from 1:02 to 1:03. In the matter of a second, I get an idea.

No. I’m not going down without a fight.

I flip onto my stomach and scurry to the nightstand, but as I reach for the clock, he pulls me to him by my calf and rips the towel off me. “No! Trevor. Stop. Get off me!” I scream, and his nails dig into the flesh between my thighs, scrapping me to force my legs open. I risk it. I lift one in the air, giving him the idea that I’m going to let him have me when I kick his chest.

He stumbles back and hits the window.

My chance.

I crawl along the mattress, thighs burning, and my hand lands on the alarm clock. I rip it from the wall and jump to the floor. I lift my arm and swing, clocking Trevor’s temple.

He falls to the ground, and something inside me snaps. I keep beating him with the clock. “I fucking hate you. You stupid. Piece. Of. Shit!” I scream, and the clock breaks in half, crumbling to chunks of plastic on the ground. I kick him in the stomach over and over again until I’m exhausted and can’t breathe.

I need to get out of here. Fuck. I need to leave. My body is trembling.

Adrenaline.

Shock.

Relief.

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nbsp; “Oh my god, I killed him. I killed a man.” I stare at his prone form and the blood pooling around his head. I grab my clothes and yank on my underwear, crying when the material rubs against the marks on my inner thigh. I don’t want to look in the mirror.

I’m too afraid of what I’ll see.

He got what he deserved.

I get dressed, pack my bag with essentials, and grab my phone.

I’ll go to Isaac.

What if he is just like Trevor?

What other choice do I have?

On a last-minute thought, I drop to the ground and poke his body. Trevor doesn’t move. I reach into his back pocket and take his wallet out, fishing out a few hundred-dollar bills. Drug money.

Whatever. As long as it pays, why should I care where it comes from?

I stuff the money into my backpack and stare at him. “The world is a better place without you in it.” I wince as I throw the backpack over my shoulder. I give him my back and walk out the door, checking one last place for a wad of money.

Mom thought she was clever hiding it from me. There’s hole in the wall covered by a Playboy poster. I rip the blonde-haired woman with fake tits off the wall and bury my hand inside the plaster, gathering a big wad of cash she as hidden from Trevor.

Tsk, tsk, Mom.

And I wonder where I got my ability to tell half-truths.

Chapter Five