Page 86 of Unlock My Heart

“Congrats, Ringer. You want a cookie?” I take off down the alley, but I can feel footsteps behind me.

I turn around, but Ringer’s already on me, shoving my back against the brick wall with his forearm crushing my windpipe.

“What I want is a little more respect from that smart mouth of yours, Cherry.” His eyes are two black coals as his thin lips lift into a smirk.

“My name’s Sienna, and you know who I belong to.” A lie; I never belonged to Fabien. My heart feels like it’s being ripped out of my chest at the realization.

“Still lying to yourself, eh? You’re the kind of girl you fuck in back rooms; not the kind you bring home to mama and papà.”

His words hit the mark, my chest burning nearly as badly as my obstructed airway. “Go fuck yourself.”

Ringer’s nostrils flare. “How about I fuck you instead, you dirty whore?”

“I’ll scream.” The threat has no teeth, not with my voice nearly gone with his crushing my windpipe.

That gets a chuckle out of him. “And who will come to your rescue? Fabien acted like he didn’t even know you.” I flinch like I’ve taken a brick to the face. “Girls like you get used and broken, the next whore ready and willing to take her place.” He presses his forearm harder, and my vision begins to spot. “Let’s see how fast I can break you.”

My knee rams into his balls, and he stumbles back with a curse. Taking off in a dead sprint, I’m nearly out of the alley when arms band around me, and I’m taken to the ground.

It’s a struggle, but Ringer’s stronger, and now he’s on top of me. A rip sounds, and my dress is torn, my panties gone.

“Help!”

The back of his hand connects with my cheek, and I hiss in a sharp breath as he struggles to get his pants down.

“Please stop,” I beg, a sob bubbling in my chest.

That rewards me with a closed fist punch to the temple, and my eyes roll back in my head.

Darkness.

Pain.

Darkness.

Cigarette breath.

Darkness.

Something hard inside me.

Sharp pain.

Stop! I scream. Did I scream?

Awful grunting sound.

Darkness pulls me back under.

Second line to heaven.

Funeral ensemble.

Black veil.

Puckered fabric.

“Breathe.” Fabien runs his hand up and down my back, and it takes me a second to realize I’m in his arms, having a full-fledged panic attack. “Four counts in, six counts out. Let’s go. One. Two. Three. Four.”