Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 91402 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 457(@200wpm)___ 366(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91402 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 457(@200wpm)___ 366(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)
There was no time to react.
He wrapped his hands around my throat and lifted me until the tips of my toes could barely scrape the carpet beneath them. He squeezed so hard I could feel every muscle in his fingers and their effort to end my life.
My vision went hazy and dark. I was rapidly losing consciousness but knew this wasn’t the end. He didn’t want me dead. He had much worse plans for me, which he confirmed when he tossed me backward onto the bed. His heavy footsteps took him to the bathroom, and a drawer opened, only to slam shut a moment later.
My head ached from the lack of oxygen. When I scrambled to sit up, he surged toward me.
“No!” I screamed, my voice almost gone from the recent trauma. There was a syringe in his hand.
“I gave you a choice,” he said. He shoved me back and clamped one of his large hands just above my elbow, more painful than any rubber band I’d ever had when getting blood drawn. “Don’t move or you’ll blow the vein.”
“You’re hurting me.” I panted for air. “Stop! Please!”
But the needle stabbed into my arm, and it was done. He released his grip, letting the drug work its way into me, pulling the needle back.
“I don’t want to forget,” I cried.
“You’ll be begging me to make you forget in a moment.”
What did he mean? If that drug wasn’t going to wipe my memory, what was it going to—
Oh, shit, I’m on fire!
I screamed as the burning crept along my skin, searing every nerve ending. The pain was so intense I wanted to vomit, but when I moved my head to the side, the pain was worse.
“Stop moving,” he ordered.
I had no choice but to obey, and when I did, the flames died down to a level where I could barely breathe again. Could only just form coherent thought over the pain. I had to lie utterly still on the bed and take the shallowest of breaths.
“Put your hands above your head,” he commanded.
The pain would be too great. “I can’t.”
He seized my wrists and raised them, making me scream. If it was anything other than burning, I might have been able to be quiet. My hands were pressed into the mattress above my head, and this was more effective than the handcuffs. I couldn’t move. If I tried, there would be extreme and immediate punishment.
“You promised,” I whispered and closed my eyes, letting loose the tears that had collected there.
“I lied.” His lips smothered mine.
When his fingers fumbled at the button of my pants, I jerked instinctively, and searing pain bolted through me. It was like I was being flattened by a hot iron on all sides.
“Don’t worry, it won’t last long,” he said.
“The drugs or the rape?”
Unwise, but worth it.
He stopped what he was doing to climb on top of me. Then he kissed me, making everything burn. He coursed his palms along my body, touching and scorching every inch of me. I had to simply lie there and fucking take it, let him do it.
A sharp rap on the door made him pause.
The Italian words from the other side were hurried and loud, and it was clear Juric didn’t like them. His face twisted into the same expression he had whenever I said Laurel’s name, signifying he was right on the edge.
The hand he wrapped around my throat was a necklace of fire.
“Seems like the marshal can’t follow simple instructions and doesn’t care if you die.” His hand slowly slid away from my neck, flames trailing in its wake. “I’ll admit, I’m surprised he found us, but I’m all for getting this over with.”
A few more seconds of burning, then he was gone from the bed. I could hear him moving around, followed by a sound of metal sliding against metal. He passed by where I could see him carrying a gun.
Footsteps led him away.
A door opened and slammed shut.
I was alone.
Forever passed before anything happened. Far off, a loud squeal of tires as cars approached and braked rapidly. I couldn’t breathe the sigh of relief I wanted to because of the pain. Was this my rescue?
A loud boom sounded outside, like a cannon going off. It shook the windowpane, followed by . . . fireworks?
No. Gunfire.
I needed to get off the bed, to either hide or run, but I couldn’t move without burning alive. There came another volley of shooting and shouting. I tried to move my fingers, sending pain straight up my arm.
Maybe the agony was what distracted me. I hadn’t heard the door open or close, but I was suddenly aware I was no longer alone. The man moved silently even though he was at least six-and-a-half feet tall.
Ethan came into view, staring down at me with concern. He knew something was wrong. I was lying in a strange position and much too still given the gun battle raging outside.