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My stomach turns to ice when I see Officer Abrams sitting on the couch, beer in hand, looking far too comfortable. His eyes widen in surprise but quickly narrow in anger.
“Where do you think you’re going?” he snarls, setting his beer down and rising to his feet.
For a split second, I’m frozen with fear. Then instinct kicks in and I dart towards the front door. But Abrams is fast — faster than Jay ever was. He grabs me from behind just as my fingers graze the doorknob.
“No! Let me go!” I scream, thrashing wildly.
Snarling, he strikes me so hard I see stars.
But I don’t break. I strike back, punch him the way Hunter taught me — a right hand that snaps his head back and a cross that sends spit flying.
“You bitch,” he growls. He staggers, spits blood, then attacks.
His weight slams into me, sending us both crashing to the ground. I claw at his face, my nails digging into his skin, drawing blood. He roars in pain but doesn’t let go. We roll across the floor, a tangle of limbs and desperation.
I get a knee up between us and shove with all my might. For a moment, I break free. I scramble to my feet, panting and dizzy from the blows and adrenaline. My eyes dart around the room for anything I can use as a weapon.
Before I can grab anything, he’s back on his feet, charging at me like a bull. I dive to the side, narrowly avoiding his grasp. He crashes into the coffee table, shattering it to pieces.
“Stay down!” he barks, spitting blood.
My hand closes around a shard of broken wood from the table as he lunges again. With every ounce of strength left in me, I drive it towards him. It punctures his side, and he howls in pain while blood spurts and soaks my fingers.
But he doesn’t stop.
He punches me hard in the stomach, knocking the wind out of me. I collapse to my knees, gasping for breath. He kicks me in the ribs, and I curl up in agony.
“You stupid bitch,” he growls. “You think you can get away?”
Through the haze of pain, I hear another sound — Jay’s grunting from downstairs as he recovers and starts up the stairs. They’re both about to finish what they started.
“No,” I whisper through clenched teeth.
As Abrams locks his hands in my hair, yanking my head back while I moan in pain, I look to the basement doorway to see Jay emerge, holding his knife and a smile on his face. He approaches slowly, savoring my helplessness. "You really thought you could escape?" Jay laughs, twirling the knife between his fingers.
Abrams tightens his grip on my hair, forcing me to kneel as he towers over me.
Jay crouches down to my level, his eyes cold and predatory. "This didn't have to be so difficult, Emily. But then, I don’t know why I’m surprised. You always were a bitch who liked to make shit difficult." He raises the knife to my throat, pressing just enough to draw a thin line of blood. My entire body tenses, every nerve screams in terror and defiance.
Then there’s a knock at the door.
Jay freezes, and he and Abrams trade a look.
Maggie’s voice rings through the wood, as if the inches of timber aren’t an impediment to her command. “Open up. I know you have Emily. I’m here for her. Be reasonable and this can still end OK for you. You won’t get another chance.”
There’s a moment of silence, in which Jay removes the knife from my throat and stands as if to approach the door.
But after that tick of quiet, there’s another knock and another voice. Sophie’s.
“That was your one chance, motherfucker. Fuck this patience and kindness bullshit. Do your thing, Hunter.“
The front door erupts.
Then the back door, too.
Through the front, I see Hunter charge in, gun ready, and behind him, I glimpse Maggie, Harper, and Sophie, standing a safe distance away. Several other bikers follow Hunter through the front door. Through the back door come a few other armed bikers as well, all wearing the Twisted Devils MC patches.
Jay screams something and lunges at me, the knife blade glinting with menace.
