I resist the overwhelming urge to throw up as he lifts his hand and drags a frigid finger down my cheek and trails it between my breasts, tugging the zipper on my coat down as a grotesque grin spreads across his face.
I can’t let him see fear, so I meet his cold eyes and smirk.
Big mistake.
The smile drops from Callum’s face and turns into a truly frightening scowl. Before I see it coming, his arm swings up and backhands me across the cheek, the explosion of white-hot pain causing me to stagger sideways from the blow.
“I think I liked you better when I thought you were an innocent little girl,” he snarls, his body so close that I can feel his hot, angry breaths on my skin.
I put my hand to my face and drag it over my mouth, wiping a smear of blood from a split on my lip. “Bastard,” I hiss before I can stop myself.
Callum’s dead eyes go wide, then light up with perverted delight. “I quite like a fighter.” Quicker than I thought possible, his hand shoots out and grabs a fistful of my hair, yanking my head painfully to the side. I can’t help the cry of pain that slips out as he pulls me to him, forcing my body against his. “We’ll see how feisty you are when I’m done with you, love.” His whisper caresses my ear in a manner reminiscent of how lovers would exchange tender words.
“Jesus Callum! Stop fuckin’ about and get to it! Someone could come by and see us,” Ryan says as he fidgets behind Callum, blowing on his hands to warm them up.
“Alright, get her arms, then.” Ryan moves to Callum’s side.
My blood runs cold as I finally realize that there is no way out of here. My whole body starts shaking uncontrollably from fear. No amount of soothing thoughts will stop the frantic drumming of my heart or the massive amounts of adrenaline rushing through my veins.
“Oi! Back off Murray, and I’ll let you live.” Startled, I attempt to turn my head to see who’s speaking, but Callum’s hand is wound too tightly around my hair to move even a fraction of an inch.
“Leave, Davies, or you’ll end up worse than her, I promise,” Callum hisses. His eyes flash toward the newcomer and I see a flicker of doubt in them.
“Don’t leave me!” I plead with whoever is here. I hate to drag someone else into this, but my overwhelming sense of survival overrides everything else.
“Shut it!” Callum shouts. He brings his leg up as he yanks my head down and knees me in the diaphragm, knocking the air out of my lungs with a whoosh. I start to collapse, but Callum holds me up by my hair as my legs give out, sending another streak of pain across my scalp.
I haven’t yet caught my breath when I’m suddenly released, left to crumple to the ground in a heap. I immediately curl into a ball, groaning in agony, and squeeze my eyes shut. I’m in too much pain from the blow to my abdomen to get up and run, even though every cell in my body is screaming at me to get out of this place.
Helpless and gasping for air, I listen to the unmistakable sounds of fighting; the slap of skin on skin, the crunch of boots on gravel, the guttural grunts, and the cracks of fists landing on bone.
My tear-blurred eyes fly open when a large figure lands on the packed dirt next to me and smacks against it, hard. I focus through the tears and hair and see Callum on the ground a foot away, blood pouring from his nose and in rivulets down his cheek. A set of legs stands next to him, kicking his side repeatedly. Too weak to lift my head, I watch the stranger’s heavy soles as they make contact with Callum over and over.
“Don’t ever fucking touch her again!” the stranger shouts as his boots make contact with Callum’s ribs one final time, eliciting a pathetic whimper from the boy on the ground.
The scuffed black boots circle the injured Callum and stop next to my head, the frayed knees of his jeans coming into view as my savior squats beside me. “Hey, you alright?” He gently scrapes the hair off of my face so he can see me.
Still struggling to breathe, I wipe the tears and snot from my cheeks and have a go at sitting up. “Ow!” The pain in my stomach makes me wince as I shift sideways and look up at my rescuer. “You,” I whisper.
It’s the boy from my school, the one with the beautiful face and exquisite drawings.
“Adam, let’s go before the coppers show up,” his friend says.
Adam, that’s his name. Adam Reynolds. He was in several of my classes today.
Adam looks towards the voice and frowns before turning back to me on the ground. “Here.” Adam extends a shaky hand to help me up. “We need to go.”
I take his hand and he gently pulls me to my feet, making sure I’m steady before releasing me. I get a good look at him and stifle a gasp. He looks upset, murderously upset actually. I’m about to ask him why when a large figure appears behind him and I instinctively take a step back, cowering in fear.
“Don’t worry,” Adam says, recognizing the anxiety I’m projecting. “That’s just Dax, my mate. He took out Mason while I dealt with this asshole.” He jerks his thumb toward Callum, who is still writhing and bleeding on the ground. “Lucky for me I surprised him. He’s a huge bastard and I’m not one for fighting,” Adam attempts a grin, but it’s weak considering the situation. “Not like Dax here.”
“Sorry to frighten you, but we really do need to get out of here,” Dax says, wiping his hands casually
on his jacket, as if this is nothing new for him. I notice that his knuckles are scraped and bleeding and there are drops of blood on his clothes. He moves gracefully around the two of us and disappears through the hole in the fence. I blink and look at Adam’s shaky hands. His are bloodied, the same as Dax’s, but one is also swollen and red.
“Your hand.” I swallow down the nausea that threatens to surface.
“Never mind that.” Adam reaches down and grabs my bag, taking my hand in his good one. “C’mon, we’re leaving.” Tugging gently, he leads me over to the opening in the fence, holding back the twisted metal until I’m safely out of the abandoned yard.